No choice

With a grumble, Mom pushed her phone in front of me. "Isn't this article about grass? Haven't I ever written one? Isn't that one not bad?" The words temporarily pushed Mom back, but it was probably just the calm before the storm. I let out a long sigh, picked up my phone, and prepared to make up the title of "How Steel is Made".

"Playing with your phone again, haven't you had enough this morning?" My mother, who didn't know the truth, shouted again. Not wanting to explain, I picked up the book and put it in front of my face to block the thick sunlight coming through the window.

"Are you reading a book or looking at your phone?" Mom still didn't understand. I was thoughtless by my mom's noise, and there was nothing I could do to face her, so I struggled up from the couch and walked to the window.

Outside the window, the neighbor's shed was noisy, and this was the neighbor's farm with chickens and ducks. An imposing rooster stood in front of the chicken coop, trying to make a fuller call, but halfway through the call, he ran out of breath and his voice grew hoarse. He stretched his neck and leaned forward as if he was squeezing the last bit of air out of his lungs, but it didn't help. Its crowns drooped and it ran back to the nest in a shy manner. On the side, a gray duck quacked and laughed at the singer who couldn't sing well. The other chickens and ducks are indifferent to this, but a group of nimble little sparrows, fluttering up a large, landing on the branches of nearby trees, chattering about this insensitive impostor.

The sight of these little creatures soothed my mood, and thoughts flew back to my mind like sparrows. But then, my mother, who was bent on getting me to write an essay, came running over. "Look at these chickens and ducks, you can write an essay on them."

"I wrote it over the summer," I replied carelessly, my eyes still looking out the window. One by one, the sparrows flew back. After looking around to make sure there was no danger, they started to walk around again leisurely.

"It doesn't matter if you've written one, the big deal is to write another one. For example, the duckling grew into a large duck, more chickens in the shed, the sparrows came back, this can not be written?"

In the sky, a white cloud came from nowhere, putting a veil on the sun. When I heard my mother's words, I couldn't help but frown and ask, "What about the main idea of writing this? Where is the intention? What about the center? How can you write a good essay!"

"The first thing you can do is to write about the virus. Mom took out her phone again and showed it to me. I didn't want to pay attention to her, looking up at the window, the clouds in the sky were called over by that naughty cloud, playing together, and the sky was overcast as if heavy rain would fall.

"Okay, stop it." I deliberately said lightly, but in my heart, there is a volcano that will erupt at any moment.

"I'm trying to help you write your essay, aren't I?" Mom was still on the sidelines with her ideas.

"Well, I'll think about it myself, and I'll take your advice," I said in an extremely perfunctory manner. Mom wanted to say something, but outside the window, the chickens and ducks were still pacing leisurely. A group of sparrows flew up, and my heart seemed to fly outside the window, flying with them.

The roar of a car came from the entrance of the village, startling the neighbor's dog to bark, startling my heart to fly back to that gray house. I had no choice, I couldn't go out to play. I let out a long sigh, went back to my room, lay down on my bed, and let the gloom of the house consume me.

Hopelessness is hopelessness, but study must continue. I lazily took out my phone and typed the first line.