Mrs Fonseca was going to nurse this little grudge until the day she died. And the cranky old crone would probably outlive me by a hundred years. Which brings me back to my original feeling, that this moment was going to come back and bite me in the butt.
it’s not that time of the year without the usual nightmares. I’ll be fine throughout the year, but when October rolls around, I wake up at 2 am, screaming, bathed in sweat, fists clenched tight.
A rainy day is really made for women to express their grief. When it rains, you can walk in the rain with tears running down your face. With your hair sopping wet and hanging down your head like rats’ tails, no one can tell…
By Kimaya Kolhe
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