LA Intro-writing Practice

Bobby sat on the garden outside his little cottage alone. The air was still clean and crisp, especially since it had drizzled lightly the night before, so the grass was still damp too. He sat cross-legged by his dead wife’s potted plant which she had dearly loved. He stroked the orchid’s petals tenderly and sighed at the thought of dear, dead Esther. Then his mind strayed to thoughts of the little boy named Tom, who was sleeping soundly inside, oblivious to the rays of bright morning sunlight already beginning to stream in through the windows. Bobby thought of how Esther would know more how to care for this difficult, orphaned boy who had been put under his care after his parents’ death, leaving him with no other known relatives to replace the task of showering Tom with a parent’s love. He would not know how, would he? He was a man who hardly knows how to show love, something he could only do with Esther. But now, with her gone, he had no inkling as to how he could possibly match his quick temper and harsh disciplining ways with Tom’s mischievous and stubborn attitude.