It was not a jubilee, but I had come to pay my debt.
Stepping gingerly in your father's study, you open the almirah.
No I am not afraid. I have come to visit my father.
The hurt has not destroyed me completely. Days were numbed like by vespa stingsβ with burning, swelling and soreness.
I slide the clothes. In deeper layer a plastic pack appears. on the bed of dried rose petals, sits a singed, brown vertebraβ collected after his funeral.
My talisman. I touch it. Turn aroundβ don't look back and walk away.