By -Aisetra-

On a clear autumn afternoon, a kid came home from school with a complaint for his father. 

"Papa, do you know what happened at school today?" 

Now his father was a refined, experienced man in his fifties. He had no wife (having never married) and had adopted his son from another country. He was the kind of man that everyone liked to talk to, the kind with eyes that seemed to sparkle with understanding whenever you talked to them. He smiled down at his son and asked, "Hmm, did you learn something new?" 

The child placed his backpack onto an empty chair at the kitchen table-an unsaid rule of the household to 'settle oneself' when returning home-then replied to his father, "I did, but that's not what I wanted to tell you. So, you know Jimmy?"

"The kid that hangs out with your group? Yes, you've told me of him," the man with rimmed glasses smiled at his child endearingly. Though the years of his life must have shaped the older man out to be a tough fellow, the innocence of childhood never ceased to impress him. 

"Well, I was telling him about how my bruise really hurts but he hold me that he had it worse because he got more than one bruise at once before! So then I told him that I have it worse because I hurt myself while on vacation, and we're supposed to have fun on vacations!" 

"Now dear," the child's father picked the him up and sat his son onto his lap, "let me tell you a story." 

"Wow, story time already?" The child's eyes sparkled with excitement. He loved it whenever his father told bedtime stories. They always left him with a warm, fuzzy feeling that fit right in with the blankets that he wrapped around himself at night. He usually dreamed about the stories after he fell asleep.

"Mhm, so let me tell you. A long, long time ago-" 

"Once upon a time?" 

The father chuckled at his son's interruption, "Yes, son, once upon a time..." 

"There was a young and cheery girl. She was kind to everyone around her and she was always the first to volunteer when the adults asked for help." 

"Wow! I would want to be her friend! Is she pretty too?" The child leaned closer to his father, his eagerness evident in the way his body spoke. 

"As beautiful as you make her," his father chuckled, "but even though this girl was pretty and always kind and helpful to everyone around her, she was lonely. No one was willing to be her friends and everyone just used her for her kindness."

"But...she had to have had a friend!" The child's small fingers clutched at his father's clothes shakily. 

The more experienced man looked down with sad eyes, "She was never able to make a friend and experience friendship, even to her last breath." 

"But don't worry," he added, "the story isn't over yet. In a different place, there is someone else. This time it's a kind and cheerful boy. He makes friends with everyone, his jokes were funny and could put a smile on anyone's face, even if they were having the worst of days. Eventually, he finds someone that he falls madly in love with and marries them."

"And they live happily ever after?" 

"No...his lover is taken away by something he can't control-death-and he is stricken with a deep sorrow that he couldn't recover from." 

The child sat up in his father's lap, his lower lip curving downwards into a quavering pout. "...But, why do the stories have to end this way?" 

The adult adjusted the rimmed glasses on his nose, "Because people still talk about these two stories. They like to argue about them, about who had it worse, the girl who had nothing or the boy who lost everything." 

The young child sat for a few minutes, staring at the wall in thought. His father smiled softly at this and stroked his child's head encouragingly. Finally, the boy spoke, "I don't think the people should be arguing." 

"Why not?" 

"Because...Because they both had a rough time and they both deserve to be happy!" The child stood up with such conviction that if his father hadn't been sitting on the chair, it would've been pushed slightly backwards. "There shouldn't always be one side that wins! Oh Papa, I'm going to tell this to Jimmy!" 

The man in his fifties only smiled knowingly as his son grabbed his backpack and ran into his room.