Climbing the Mountain Within

One night, the rain tapped softly on the window— a slow, rhythmic reminder

of life outside. He opened his palm… and the burnt keychain slid into view. For the first time…

he noticed the shape carved on it— a small mountain. The same mountain he once climbed

with his father… the same day his father told him: “If a mountain breaks you… climb it twice.”

A memory returned… and with it— a spark. He began small. A twitch.

A fingertip pressing into the wheelchair arm. A breath held for courage.

Then failure. So many failures. Nights where he almost quit. Mornings where he

whispered, “Maybe tomorrow.” But the janitor’s words… his father’s mountain…