100 Words Project 33: Yearly Torture

Yearly Torture

No home. No pet dog. No food. No family. No possession.
I am the lowest in the hierarchy of street beggars.
The petrichor emanating from the Earth after the rain is the only beautiful thing in this season.
The sooner I die the better. I think this same thought every year this season.
Somehow though, someone up there wants to torture me for a bit longer. He send me food , blankets and umbrella through different people on the streets. I can’t resist. Somehow I survive this season and continue living only to meet the same punishment next year.

Word: Petrichor