| Wong Yit Mun Cyril
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| Stepping Into the flat this evening, something strange happened; the veranda became a veranda, the yellow lamp on the wall a yellow lamp on the wall, the mat on the floor turned red instead of its present blue, the woman who looked up from the shelf of potted plants - now a shelf of mangled bonsai - became a woman with subtler lines beneath her eyes, speaking, as she had once spoken, 'Never forget.' I nodded. As I had always nodded. 'I won't.' But that was then. |
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Copyright © 2000 Wong Yit Mun Cyril All Rights Reserved |
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