Wanting what we can't have

The small boy stood at the side of the road, listening to the bustling traffic rushing past in the mid-day afternoon sun. Everyone and everything was whizzing by him at such a quick pace that it seemed a blur to his tiny frame. A man, who was much taller and bigger in size, walked past in a frenzy and accidentally shoved him, but continued on without so much as a glance behind him to see if the boy was alright. But it didn't matter.

The boy's ocean blue eyes were fixated on the smoothie stall in front of him. There were a myriad of colorful fruits, all beckoning him to taste how delicious they were. Strawberries, mangoes, apples, there were even exotic fruits like hairy-skinned rambutans that stared back at him. The stall had been located beside his house for as long as he could remember, and everyday after school, he would never fail to walk past it, smell the fragrance coming from the small push cart, and see the young vendor churn out delicious-looking smoothies and fruit shakes with such finesse.

"Look, but don't touch."

The boy was reminded of this everyday. It was disappointing to see the vendor serve other customers with a bright smile on her face, and he would stare as the other little boys and girls around him extended their hands eagerly to receive the drinks, and then gulp it down in a flash, grinning from ear to ear as they exclaimed how tasty the shakes were. The whole time, he would be sitting on the bench nearby, imagining what his ideal smoothie would taste like; it would be a blend of strawberries and mango, the two fruits he loved best in the world. The weather had been atrocious lately, even the 5 minute walk home from school had him perspiring like crazy. How awesome it would be to cool down with a tropical drink!

He knew it was out of his reach. He had 50 pence a day for his allowance, and that was all his family could afford, what with his father recently being retrenched from his work. His mother was a home-maker, and because she could not contribute money to the household, she had tried to tighten the family's purse instead so they could have a reasonable amount of savings to tide them over. After having his meals of a sandwich and a cup of orange juice in his school's tiny tuck shop, he barely had even 10 pence left in his pockets. As he watched the hoards of happy children digging out coins from their bags to buy the smoothies, he could only stare in jealousy.

It was a particularly unbearable hot and stuffy summer day. The heat made everyone grumpy and hot-tempered, but not him. He grinned as he held a large cup of strawberry-mango smoothie, topped with an extra dose of raspberry syrup and a slice of lemon. Water droplets were dripping down the sides of the cup, freezing his hands in an instant. But he was far from feeling uncomfortable; it was in fact a wonderful sensation. The heat seemed to be unable to dampen his spirits, and he took his first swig of the fruity beverage. It tasted like heaven and he had never felt so joyful consuming a drink in his entire life. He swung his backpack over his shoulder, tiny fingers still clutching tightly to the cup. Hello Summer, he thought, smiling widely. Smoothie Summer.