The driveway was graveled. Here and there weed broke from between the pebbles. We played cricket and then croquet and now the boy was bored again. So we tugged and pulled at the weeds and threw them in the bin, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. My knees ached. The boy bored again thought of a new game, of hiding treasure in the gravel. So we got what we could, a dried leaf, a yellow flower from the garden, a rotten strawberry, a twig, some gum and lint from my pocket and buried it under the gravel. With his finger, he marked the spot with a large X. We went inside. Had dinner. It grew dark. The leaves of the trees looked nearly purple. We came out with a pocket torch to look for our treasure.
Sonal Aggarwal recently completed a Masters in Creative Writing from University of East Anglia, UK. Her work has appeared in The Caravan and on newwriting.net. She lives in Delhi, India.