My parent’s friends arrived in couples. Each one was pregnant. Ashamed, I wrote on the blackboard:

Don’t travel so much. Make Rituals.

I was warning the pregnant women how to raise their babies right. With my own child, I was hiding from someone in particular. When they passed by, I held up a newspaper so they could not see us behind the pages. I am not sure why we were hiding and nothing happened.

The older gentleman had a fondness for my sister and I. When he let us drive away in his car I knew it was because one day his kids would be old, just like us. Because, in us, he saw his own children.

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