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  • Writer's pictureJames Kidac


There was a sound at the top, I thought maybe it was just her finding refuge with a familiar face because she hadn't known about where I had resided since the previous week. And I proceeded carefully upstairs, it was wet and didn't seem safe, the signs were of silence and moss, something foreign to this block in what seemed to be a long time ago. I inched up carefully, and then upon reaching the top level, I saw light emanating from a doorway. I walked slowly towards it, she was there, eyes white and not covered by the door. Grandma was one of them.

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