Most kids are afraid of monsters that live under their bed or inside their closet, I was afraid of the one living in my chest. His growls, whistles and wheezing have kept me up many nights and without a doubt have made me very, very afraid.
A little boy walked into the hole in the wall where I was having breakfast in Delhi, accompanied by his parents. He stood out to me among the early morning ramblings and the sound of hurried spoons hitting the colorfully stuffed, tin plates.
His drawn little face told a story of eyes that had seen too much and a young soul that was already overburdened. He wore a hep-lock on his hand and had recently been receiving some form of treatment.
The restaurant went quiet for a moment and I couldn’t help but stare, as the tears started streaming uncontrollably down my face.
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