The sins of the father…

You were looking out of the car window, wincing at the mother who was flogging her son too furiously for his sin- whatever it was, when you heard your father’s voice and the tapping of his fingers on the steering wheel. You turned to him sharply, your brow arched already and concern drawing your eyes together.

“I wonder why he doesn’t greet me anymore,” he said

Who doesn’t greet you daddy?

Look at him” he tilts his chin left to a man walking with a little girl who looked to be about four or five years old.

Who is that?

“Gerald, remember him? He lived across the road with his parents, they were my friends. Can you remember them?”

“How can I not remember them?” you muttered through a suddenly parched throat.
The car suddenly felt like a furnace, you wanted to jump out of the car, out of your skin even, anything to escape the memories about to hit you but you sat still with legs pressed together and your hands gripping your knee as the dam shook and  then collapsed.  Continue reading →

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