My elder brother turned one year old the
day I was born. I don’t remember much about anything then, but later I remember
his brown straight hair that was nothing like mine. Mine was golden and curly.
I was chubby. He was lean. We were inseparable because I clung to his
constantly newfound knowledge like a leech. When he started school we stopped
being so close. My mum and dad said that I became difficult around then. They
used to lock me in the toilet so that my rages could peter out against the
woodchip. I guess that it was for the best. The bathroom hadn’t been decorated
since we moved in. When they redid it in purple and all plush I just didn’t
have it in me to break things. “You could live in that privy!” my mum’s friend
Edith used to marvel...
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