07/28/2025
In a small, sunlit classroom in the heart of a bustling village, a young boy named Amari found himself nestled against an old wooden desk. His head rested gently on its worn surface, his eyes closed in peaceful slumber. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of distant voices and the occasional chirp of birds outside.
Amari had been up early that morning, helping his mother prepare breakfast before rushing to school. By midday, the heat of the day had settled over the classroom like a warm blanket, and the monotony of lessons had taken its toll. Though he tried to stay awake, his eyelids grew heavy, and soon, he succumbed to the pull of sleep.
The desk beneath him was sturdy but showed signs of age—its paint chipped, its edges rounded from years of use. It had seen countless students come and go, each leaving behind their own stories. Today, it cradled Amari’s weary body, offering him a moment of respite.
As he slept, his dreams carried him to a place where there were no worries, no chores, and no hunger pangs gnawing at his stomach. In his dream, he ran barefoot through fields of golden wheat, laughing as he chased butterflies under a clear blue sky. For a brief moment, reality faded away, and all that existed was peace.
A gentle breeze swept through the open window, stirring the dust particles in the air and brushing softly against Amari’s face. The sound of footsteps approached, and a teacher paused by his desk, noticing the sleeping child. With a tender smile, she placed a hand on his shoulder, waking him gently.
“Amari,” she whispered, her voice soft and kind. “It’s time to rest.”
Amari blinked slowly, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. He looked around, realizing where he was, and then smiled sheepishly at the teacher. She handed him a small piece of bread she’d saved from her lunch, which he accepted gratefully.
“You’ve worked hard today,” she said, patting his head. “Sometimes, even heroes need a little nap.”
Amari nodded, tucking the bread into his pocket.
