Pa made me an iron box for school from scraps of metal he took from the mechanic shop down the road. He said it was better than the fancy bag the”rich children” in my class hung.
Even after I struck that girl’s head with my iron box, he defended me. He was that good a father.
Most times I looked at him and smiled. He was very courageous. Ma wasn’t that courageous so she ran away after my birth.
The first time Ma came back, I spat at her feet. Pa smiled and picked me up. He was proud.

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