Unexpected situation

I sat down, by the window, in the back row to the left of Shinjiro. Gazing out at the clean campus, I saw the number of students start to dwindle as each went to their respective classes. I felt the air in the room contract and compact; it squeezed my body and quickened my breath. The tension rose. The professor walked in, but the chatter continued.

“Silence!,” demanded a short burly man with a thick mustache.

Like a sponge drenched in fresh water and its every fiber grasping onto every minute drop of moisture, so the voices in the room drained away. Uneasiness danced on every person’s face, toying with their expressions. The world tightened, clutching my body, arms, legs, face relentlessly. The middle\-aged man stared solemnly.

He gazed upwards and spoke with a slight nasal tone, “It is indeed unfortunate that so great a man died, but here lives the future and he is the past.” The class murmured among themselves, degrading and disapproving the life of that man. “He was too active”, they roared in union, “And too weak for the position.”

The man in question was Mr. Shiba, the Prime Minister and a charming nationalist. He was a proactive individual, taking part in every international and domestic affair. Extreme stress greatly burdened his life and brought it to an abrupt end. At the news of his death, the general public was greatly alarmed and engulfed in fear. This sensation was mainly caused by the nature of Shiba’s actions.

Prime Minister Shiba poked and involved himself with every matter, made ties and bitter relationships with many nations, and abused many neighboring countries with the aid of the USA. He brought trouble with every action he committed; his death only worsened the situation. Japan fell into insecurity and desperation.

The bell rang and school ended. I packed up my belongings and headed for the front gate. My mind boiled with thoughts; they steamed and pushed on my skull. Without a leader, the country was helpless against foreign aggression.

On the way out, I saw Shinjiro walking in the opposite direction and turned my gaze to the other direction. I, filled with exhaustion and tiredness, hurriedly ran through the streets and back home. Ignoring the close, yet incomprehensible droning of the crowd, I reached my neighborhood. Rather, it was a congregation of a small collection of outmoded buildings. The area was quite poor compared to the other parts of the city; however, there was an abundance of lush foliage and each family tending to their own yard.

It was a disturbing day, my thoughts raced through my mind. I became absent\-minded. Upon reaching the vicinity of my house, I tripped over a protruding root. I glanced up, up…

I realized the antiquity of the great trees. Each arm leaned down, it yearned to embrace the lifeless earth and return from where it came. The trees were all cherry blossoms, delicate yet also lifeless in winter. They groaned and shook in the wind, aging faster by the day while sitting in deep contemplation. Its roots, covered by the snow, stretched down into an endless abyss. Beneath the imposing branches, there lies a bed of winterberries. The stout shrubs slept on the cold damp floor, creeping into every crevasse. Drops of bright flaming red dotted the grey figure of the bush. Each fruit burst with saturation, taking away the color and robbing the vitality of its surroundings. A sharp disparity between the bare, majestic Sakura and the active, burly winterberry.

I stood there, astounded by nature. It enraptured me, every minute detail. The vegetation enveloped me in a great prison, trapping me with awe.

It was the first time I had stopped and respected the grandeur of nature.

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