A Small Setback, A Big Lesson

The afternoon sun, usually Leo’s cheerful companion, felt a little less bright today. He was carefully raking leaves in Mrs. Gable’s yard, a task that had become his reliable source of pocket money. Mrs. Gable, with her kind eyes and a smile that could melt a grumpy cloud, had offered him this job after his wilder hustles had sputtered out. It wasn't as exciting as, say, trying to sell "magic" shoelaces that made you run faster (they didn't), but it was steady. And steady was good. Steady was getting him closer to the dazzling, chrome-wheeled dream bike in Mr. Henderson’s shop window.

He’d been humming a little tune, picturing himself zooming down the street, the wind whipping through his hair, when his foot caught on a particularly stubborn root. The rake, a sturdy metal one Mrs. Gable kept in her shed, flew from his grasp. It arced through the air, a brief, terrifying moment of uncontrolled flight, before landing with a sickening *snap* right in the middle of Mrs. Gable’s prize-winning petunias.

Leo froze, his heart doing a frantic drum solo against his ribs. The rake’s handle had broken clean in two. Not just a little crack, but a definite, irreparable *snap*. And the petunias… well, they looked like they’d gone through a tiny, floral hurricane. A few bright pink heads were bent at sad angles, their delicate petals bruised and scattered.