paperboy short story HARRIET EASTMENT
The roads were baking hot when a paperboy began his rounds one early morning. He never looked bored, or particularly happy. No one would notice as he walked by each worn-down house, as he did his rounds every Wednesday morning around five AM; a lonely person walking by lonely roads. He passed papers which provided no exciting news or information. But he was saving up for a car. The morning air was cool, and a summer sky was warming up. It would be a boiling day, but now soft peachy hues faded into a silvery blue. The sound of waves lapping a cool shore broke the morning silence. Despite how much he disliked his job he always loved how peaceful the mornings were. He could hear voices down on the beach- early morning swimmers and surfers enjoying cooler sand. He shifted his backpack onto his other shoulder, and launched a newspaper over Mrs Longer’s fence and flew another over Mr Sawmen’s camelias. Every house here was worn down and tired. When he was younger, he and a few other boys would ride along warm roads in the summer on their bicycles, making their way through the quiet roads. Most of those boys were gone now. When he reached a road overlooking the beach he could see old minivans parked along the road next to a long line of scrub. There were worn tracks that sloped downwards onto the sand. A couple of boys carrying surfboards disappeared down the scrub track as he passed. Every house had a small shed, usually holding boats or racks of surfboards. No one had a carport. Not many people here had a car at all. Not when you could just walk everywhere. No one saw a reason to go anywhere else. But he did. Being a paperboy meant you learnt a lot more about a place than anyone else. He knew Mr Sando watered his garden at six every morning. He knew that Caro Wilson’s kelpie could unlatch her mailbox (he always left her papers on her high concrete wall). And Mrs Wilma, well, she didn’t check her mailbox...ever, which is why he always had to leave his papers on her doorstep.
018
art
