No matter how much he tried, Jey, the milkman’s youngest son, couldn’t persuade the elders to clean the path out of the isolated village.
He sighed walking back home, alone and dejected yet again. His villagers were golden at heart, compassionate and ever understanding. However, when it came to sensible matters, they wouldn’t budge from traditional muck and let progress come into their process. Jey decided to give up.
As he packed his bag that night, he knew he couldn’t save his village. Their only passage to development was blocked by decades of mindless dirt and debris.
And a flood was coming.
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Inspiration: Today’s Author.
