A warm breeze blew in Hyde Park. A young boy sat on the grass. Steel-rimmed glasses balanced on his high bridged nose. His eyes darted over and over, left to right. He swore he saw something strange.
"It's a squirrel," he told himself.
But, he knew it wasn't. It couldn't be. Squirrels don't jump twenty feet in the air.
He pulled out his smartphone and snapped a quick picture of the creature. He'd ask his parents when he returned home later that evening.
He paced around the quarter, deciding he was craving some coffee. The closest Starbucks was just down the road, so he began to venture towards the coffee shop. He ordered his favourite coffee, a caramel macchiato. He loved the sweet caramel mixed with foam when the drink was still fresh. When you had drunken most of the foam, it would all mix together creating a euphoric exlir. There was something about coffee shops that he adored. The smell of roasted coffee beans, the low chatter of customers and the indie music playing quietly in the background. It was per-
"Caramel macchiato for Jungkook?" The baraista called.
"Oh." he muttered, and took the warm cup in his hands.
He pushed the door open and began the journey to his house. He lived in the suburbs of London, where the houses were copy and paste replicas of one another. He hated it. No one here had singularity and neither did the buildings. He took the tube every weekend downtown, and sightsee.
Although he was born there, London was a foreign country. It would change daily and you'd see things you'd never see again. Autumn was best for this. The orange hues of the trees, aromas of cinnamon and nutmeg in the air, vendors selling maple treats and children running around finding uniforms for the upcoming school year. Jungkook would be starting his first year of secondary school this year. He caught himself worrying more than normal. It was weird, as if he was afraid of losing friends. He wasn't very popular at school but wasn't it outcast, which he was comfortable with, however, his friends were becoming obsessed with popularity. They didn't care about work or happiness anymore, just girls and partying. Honestly, it made him upset.
He approached the opening of the Tube, and ascended down the concrete steps. Groups of kids the same age were standing together.
Great, a stab in his heart. They were laughing and amusing themselves by being idiots. Jungkook yearned for the days he and his friends would run around the shops, screaming and giggling. Those days are over, he thought, it's all a popularity competition now.
The subway that brought him to London's West End screeched to a halt. Passengers poured out like a waterfall. People weaved in-between the departing bodies like little fish. Jungkook utterly hated this - being so close to people, smelling every scent you can dream of. It's disgusting.
He sat down on the nearest seat and put in his earphones. Going on the subways was like watching TV. There was always something going on. Drama, comedy, news - you name it. Today on The London Tube a woman was fighting with her boyfriend on the phone, two burnouts trading weed and money, a baby crying and a Golden Retriever sprawled out on the floor accompaning his blind owner. The teenager obviously directed his attention to the dog. Everything else was so negative, and he just needed a bit of positivity for the first day of school coming in two days.
A screech pried his eyes open. Jungkook was at the station. He wiped the sleep out of his eyes and checked the time. 6:00pm. Just in time for dinner. The boy jogged home, making it in less than five minutes.
"I'm home!"
"Jungkook, come here." A familiar voice ordered.
His parents were sitting in the living room, a piece of paper in their hands.
"What is it?" Jungkook asked, worried.
"Don't worry, honey." His mother smiled.
"We've been wanting to tell you this for a while," his father paused, "do you know the real reason why we moved here?"
"Are you serious?" The son scoffed. "Grandfather escaped the during the Korean war."
"That's true, but how could someone do that? Escaping the strict rules of conscription, it just doesn't make perfect sense."
Jungkook cocked his eyebrow. "What?"
"Jungkook, your grandfather was a wizard." His mother whispered.
The boy laughed. "No way! Stop joking around."
His father passed him a brown envelope, sealed with red wax.