It was the day after I had moved in. Callie had already warmed up to me and was not as fussy as the first day. We were in the living room after I had picked Callie from school. I was now friends with the Indian driver who was teaching me Hindi.

Presently, she was telling me about her day at school which made me start asking myself questions. Where was Callie’s mother? I did not ask anything at the interview because I did not want to seem nosy. But now I was so so curious.

Callie went on, oblivious to my inner pondering. “…And then Sheila said I should push Lou and call herself a fat popotamus.”

“Did you do it, hun?”, I asked.

“No”, the kid replied proudly.

“That’s good”, was my reply. Then I ruffled Callie’s hair

“Stop that”, she said “I’m not a kid”

“Oh, then what are you?”, I asked intrigued

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a wiman”, Callie

said, “You’re one

me with a

* * *

Callie to bed. I kissed her head and said, “Sweet dreams, mon ange.” Then went

at night. I was startled. The day had been great so I didn’t understand who was screaming. Soon, I realized

was met with one of the most pitiful and painful sights I had ever seen. Callie was writhing in bed, her face contorted in agony. She was

and smoothed it, praying that she didn’t start

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my arms and woke her up

Okay. It was

herself into my arms and sobbed some

promise you’ll never leave me”, she

promise.”, I said solemnly.”What did you dream

you were gone

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