o6 , a new home

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𖨳
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a new home
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he would sit me in the sink to brush out my tangled hair quietly, but always so gently. he would tell me to wash my face every morning and night before brushing our teeth together in a comfortable silence until it became routine. he would pick out clean clothes for me to wear before starting the shower and didn't take one himself until i was fully dried off and my hair was brushed so i "didn't catch a cold," as he would say.

he always put me first and himself second.

that meant meals were the same way too and not until i was older did i realize why he sometimes wouldn't eat but i would. "i'm not hungry, i'll eat later," he would say so i wouldn't starve if there was only enough for one-and even if i offered him a bite, he insisted on making me finish every last scrap of food on my plate before i was able to leave the table.

i wasn't allowed to go out with him whenever he went out though. it was too dangerous for me apparently, and although i never asked what he did or how he got the food and clothes he would bring back every once in a while, i was always curious. i stayed grateful however and i think he was thankful for my quiet appreciation.

every night would end the same way after bringing me back from the streets; he would place a hand on my hair and ruffle it until some strands stuck up as he passed me by to sleep on the floor while i slept on the couch.

it always put a smile on my face, and i think that was why he never stopped.

𝑺𝑻𝑹𝑰𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑨𝑺𝑬 ☙ 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈 𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍Where stories live. Discover now