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Weekly Contest #79
Mr. Boyd lived in a small two-story house outside the city; I would go up there Monday through Saturday and stay with him. Wheelchair-bound, the man required assistance. He hardly spoke, wore wire-framed glasses, and often could be found staring at the variety of photos of his late wife, who had passed quite a few years ago. As his care-taker, I would make him food and help him with his basic needs in general. Sundays, he always requested in a small, quiet voice to be left alone. He would often say, "I need you to rest, I would like a ...
I never questioned what my mother had told me. She didn't know who my father was. I only knew that somehow I would become something great, and he would know I was his son. My mother had come to America from Argentina when I was young. I was without my mother for a few years, living in my village with my aunt. The town was small but enough for a boy of five years old. I have fond, although very few memories of my family and I outside, all the time, considering we didn't have glass windows, just holes in the walls. One night, a snake was in my...
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