We Play, You Move

A few days had gone by; the moving men had helped us get all of the furniture into the house, it now it did start looking like a home. Today is a Sunday. The family was gathered in one of the living rooms, hanging paintings on the walls, adding little frames with photos for the parents wedding, or Alex running around in his dipper as a child. As Alex was dusting one particular frame it slipped out of his hands as he was about to place it on the shelf. The glass hit the floor and shattered into, what seems to be a million pieces. The two adults turned to look at their son shamefully. Alex bowed down and picked up the family photo. It was old. He himself was about 12 years old and had an arm around his older brother. It was summer; they were standing in the sunny garden. A tear landed on the photo. His mother came running with the vacuum cleaner sucking up all the little pieces of glass…

“Do you need a hand with that?” a voice asked. Alex looked up to see Mr. Barakat standing in the doorway.

A few hours had passed and all of the glass was gone, the rest of the paintings, photos and stuff had been put in place. The decorating of the house had gone much faster with the help of Bassam, and now Isobel was making him English tea as a ‘thank you’. The two men was deep in a conversation about their job, and Alex was trying to keep up with no luck, so he let his thoughts wander. Tomorrow would be his first school day here. Baltimore High seemed like a freaky place to start. What if he was going be picked on because of his accent? Were they a lot different in state of mind then him? Would they even like him?
Alex’s train of thoughts was stops by Mr. Barakat:
“Oh, I totally forgot. My wife asked if you would like to come over for dinner tonight?”