Ahsan Butt
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My father’s words resonate in my ears as I run my hand over my right cheek, remembering the sting of his hand as he struck me, not for the first time or the last. Even through the haze of twenty odd years, that day seems to stand out fresh in my mind as if memory had allocated a special part of my brain for it. Shaking my head, I take the last cigarette out of the packet and throw it aside feeling a twinge of guilt at littering but that passes quickly as I sit down on the cold, smooth marble surface. I grin at the thought of my mother seeing me now, seeing where I was sitting, her indignation, her eyes full of rage but her tongue unable to reprimand her son.
Read More Here : “Don’t Cry Like A Woman If You Can’t Stand Your Ground Like A Man!” – Tania Umar
Read More Here : “Don’t Cry Like A Woman If You Can’t Stand Your Ground Like A Man!” – Tania Umar