what would become of him

the world he knew changed. he wasnt quite sure how but it was gone.

back then impulse and desperation had a strong hold of the boy and as the jubilee of his decision finally settled he felt the sting of a very obvious conclusion.
the morning after he walked inside a post office and handed a pair of 2x2 portraits along with a form. he stood and he waited as the agent lazily inspected and shuffled the forms.
"ok, everything's here." the boy's jaw relaxed and breath returned to him.
he was a few steps towards the exit when the agent hollered "expect your passport in about a month" his spirit was crushed, you could see it on his shoulder; the weight of everything he was fleeing from, all of it on him pressing down. 
the next two weeks a popcorn ceiling and a rusted mailbox syndicated themselves in the life of the boy. he somehow managed to come up with the extra cash to get things expedited but deep down he knew there'd be no guarantee. again and once again he was left at the mercy of his Creator.  

he woke up late one cold january morning 2 days before the big day. the popcorn ceiling looked the same and he was afraid the mailbox would give him a similar greeting. he was at the front door when his mother stopped him; she handed him the envelope not knowing if her son would ever return