Dada 65

Here was Sunday nearly over and I still hadn’t examined the Meth . That was a good sign. I did not want to smoke alone although it was now physically possible with Dada not being here. I did search for some silver foil but with not much heart. There was none anyway and so I gave up. He was dead and buried now and I was back at work. When all was  said and done it was between us. It was our life and nothing had really changed.

There was a sound outside the door and I turned the lock to see who it was. Srino was staring at his feet and his scabby hands were shaking. Without looking at me, he asked: 

“Tell me Rana Abdulla they won’t take him away from me.’ They’ll give him back to me won’t they. Otherwise, what will happen to me?” 

I told him that the police kept all live animals for three days in case their owners came for them and that afterwards they did what they thought best. He looked at me in silence. Then he said: “Good night”. He closed his door and I could hear him walking back and forth. His bed creaked. And when I heard a strange little sound coming from the other side of the wall and I realized he was crying. I don’t know why, but Dada kept filling my thoughts .I knew I had to get up early to arrange the final documents .