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Weekly Contest #312
This story contains themes related to grief. My hands feel like mine, but they don’t look like mine. I’m back to the last time I saw Ma’s hands. Her fingers are so thin.Perfectly manicured purple cat-eye nails, fidgeting with the clasp of her favourite Ndebele bead bracelet. But these are my hands. When did I lose so much weight? I blink and make eye contact with my reflection in the mirror.Joy. Focus.Ma would laugh at me if she knew what I was doing now. But even when she laughed at me, I felt warm. Disarmed. I don’t know how she could laug...
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