7:00 a.m.

Prakash stood on the balcony of his house, brushing his teeth.

He looked down at the street, and was glad no one was walking down it.

He kept brushing.

Then, he spotted them.

A teenage boy and his father, walking down his street. Walking towards his house.

Prakash stopped brushing.

Prakash wanted to scream out to them. He wanted to tell them to turn back. This time, from 6:30 to 7:30, it wasn’t a good time. He wanted to tell them to go another way. But he didn’t. Every time he’d tried in the past, the people would look at him strangely and walk down the road anyway.

And now, this pair, they walked down the street as well. They came closer, and closer to his house.

The strip of road, two houses to the right of his house, his house, and the house on the left of his house, the strip was… strange. It made people blurt out things, things that they had buried deep down inside them.

Prakash grabbed on to the railing. This was going to be rough.

The father and son came closer and closer to his house, and then they crossed into the strip of road that was trouble.

Almost immediately, their faces turned sour.

They took a step forward. Then another. And then the father burst out - “You’re late,” he screamed. “You’re late and you never call home to tell us you’ll be late.”

“Yeah, well, you scream at me all day.” Shouted the boy. “I get good grades, and still you scream at me to study, study, study.”

“I don’t like your deodorant. Change it!”

“I don’t like your shoes. Change them.”

“I hate your haircut.”

“I hate your obsessive need to eat methi parathas every day.”

And then they crossed the house on the left.

They stopped talking and they stared at one another.

Prakash had heard everything. And frankly, the exchange didn’t seem too life changing. They could, quite possibly, get past this.

But then, he didn’t know what triggered these people. Maybe this fight was a lot more serious than what was on the surface.

He continued to stare at the pair, toothbrush still handing off his mouth.

The father and son continued to stare at one other.

And then they burst out laughing. A few moments later, the father, wiping the tear from his eyes, said “I don’t quite know what happened to me back there, but it’s good to know what you think of my shoes.”

“Yeah,” said the son. “I’ll make sure to call you every time I’m late.”

“Please do, it makes me mad not knowing if you’re safe or not.”

And the pair continued to walk.

Prakash couldn’t hear what they were saying anymore, but he didn’t need to.

He finally remembered the toothbrush hanging from his mouth, and he returned to brushing his teeth.

He was smiling now.