It took you two years to show me your old uniform. It was neatly pressed and carefully hung. Its fabric looked flat and creaseless . I watched your face and sensed the weight of the occasion. Your eyes acquired that far away clouded look. You were gone. It didn’t matter I could see the hills too. My heart sunk. I was never going to get you back again. I thought of your father and whether he beat you a lot. You wouldn’t let anyone in. Not even me.
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