Contest Alert || 1 Picture 1 Story Week #103

Hey wonderful Pakistani friends. Your bestie @elsa-queen is here sending lots of positivity and warm wishes to all of you. I hope all my creative companions are having a beautiful and inspiring day.

I am happy to join the One Picture One Story Contest today. A sincere thank you to the amazing @suboohi ma’am for organizing such a meaningful and engaging event. I feel very grateful to be a part of it friends.

Freepik

Everyone in the city knew that if something was lost. It might end up with Idris. He did not collect valuable things. Not jewelry, not money, not antiques. Idris collected forgotten things. The objects abandoned not because they were useless but because their owners had stopped believing they mattered.
Each morning before sunrise. Idris walked the streets with a canvas bag slung over his shoulder. He picked up a cracked mirror from beside a trash bin. A single shoe near a bus stop. A notebook soaked by rain. He never rushed. Forgotten things he believed, needed time to be noticed again.
Idris lived alone in a small apartment above a closed tailor shop. Inside the shelves lined every wall. Each object was labeled carefully: “Belonged to a girl who stopped writing poems.”
“Dropped by a man who stopped running.”
“Thrown away by someone who stopped hoping.”
One evening while sweeping the sidewalk outside his building. Idris found something unusual. A small wooden box, warm to the touch despite the cold air. Inside it was a folded piece of paper with only one sentence written in uneven ink:
“I don’t know who I am anymore.”
Idris froze. Objects usually came with silence not confessions. That night he could not sleep. The box sat on his table, humming softly. As if it were breathing. At dawn Idris made a decision he had never made before. Instead of shelving it. He would return it.
He retraced his steps from the night before, holding the box carefully, listening. When he reached the old public library. The humming grew louder. Inside near a dusty window, sat a young woman staring at her empty hands.
Idris approached slowly.
“You dropped something,” he said, placing the box on the table. She opened it. Her eyes filled with tears before she even read the note.
“I didn’t think anyone would find that,” she whispered. I thought I lost myself for good.
Idris smiled gently. “You didn’t lose yourself,” he said. “You just forgot where you placed it.”
The woman laughed through her tears. For the first time in years. She picked up a pen and began to write.
When Idris returned home that evening. He noticed something strange. One shelf was empty. The shelf labeled:
“Belonged to a man who thought his purpose was only to collect.” Idris sat down and laughed softly. Some things, he realized, are only forgotten until they’re needed again.

So friends this is my participation in this contest. I hope you appreciate my entry. I am eager to read your nice comments.

I am tagging my friends so they can also enjoy participating in this contest @ripon0630 , @shahidalinaz and @sur-riti , @sualeha .

I just want to say THANKS to this beautiful moment friends. That gave me peace and inspiration to write. Small things touch to my heart deeply. It remind me how is beautiful life when we really stop and feel it.

Heartfelt Thanks :

@suboohi

Sincerely :

@elsa-queen