I throw on his old t-shirt, it smells of him; manly and musky. There are holes where it has worn, but I love it. I pad into the kitchen and put the co...fee on, he likes his strong and black.As I wait for the drip, drip, drip of the machine, my head begins to race. I feel so full of stories, they leech out of my skin and run onto the page themselves. I pick up the notes from the kitchen table and remind myself where we are, today we will write but not for an hour or so yet.He is still sleeping. I came out of my shell on account of you, unaware of our blood link.’‘O ma, I never imagined I’d meet you in my life.’‘Me too, but then why did you say that you were an orphan?’I told her briefly my runaway story. She took me in her arms and soothed me, ‘It’s all the game of fate.’‘How come the inspector agreed to bring me back?’ I wondered.‘I told him that I would open-out the secret of the baby to the world otherwise,’ my mother cleared.I cuddled in her embrace. She kissed me first on my. More

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