Waiting for my dinner I began to count the cars and I caught a lonely young tree. It was almost in the center of the parking lot. A slender trunk, wet and shiny, was sticking out of the narrow grey lawn that served as a parking space divider. Bright yellow and orange leaves shook convulsively on thin branches. The tree shook and wriggled like a prisoner trying to tear its shackles. It lived its life surrounded by dead concrete.
The characteristic squeak signaled that the food was ready. Turned away from the window, I took out my breakfast and went back to the office.
Author: Ulyashenkov Sergey
From "Daily Tales" series