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Fiction
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Moral rights
S.E. Saunders asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
External content
S.E. Saunders has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.
Designations
Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.
Authors Note:
While the assertion above states the stories found in this book are fictional, I will include notes where the stories aren't fiction. The following is based on events from my life.
Joseph was a boy with dark hair and dark eyes. He might have been handsome, but I don't know because I never looked at him that way. His face is a blur in my memory. Only distinct memories remain.
My mother and her boyfriend saw him as something else. The person I knew was fun to hang around with. We would play tag in the apartment, running and screaming through the halls with several others. Looking back at our actions, I think I would have punished my children for this same behaviour.
A group of tweens and teens ran the apartment complex and its three floors until we retired to a stairwell where we'd talk about whatever was important to us at the time. Some I met through school, while others I met while I begged for smokes for my mother as I canvassed the hallways to try to buy a cigarette from a neighbour. The details are fuzzy while the memory of running through the halls remains.
I wore a beautiful bowl-cut hairstyle and plaid shirts that snapped together at the front. It's funny sometimes when I watch Korean dramas because a couple of characters remind me of that time and how very alike we were in our tomboyish ways.
At that time, I was noticing boys and had various crushes on them, but never Joseph. He was like the brother I always wanted, and it was with great reluctance I stopped being his friend.
My mother's boyfriend saw him smoking behind the Mac's store. To this day, I don't believe him. I think the boyfriend saw someone that looked like him. I asked Joseph, and he said it wasn't him. Nor did I ever see him smoking before or after the time I was forced to stop being his friend. Joseph was never someone he said he wasn't, unlike the boyfriend, who was having an affair with my mother while his wife worked. Looking at this as an adult, even if Joseph did smoke, he was a better choice of associate than my mother's lover if we were going to call out the moral police.
For someone who doesn't make friends easily or keep many of them, losing the friendship left me uncertain. What was the purpose of making friends when I would be forced to cut them out of my life? As an adult, I observe people for a long time before I decide if I want to be their friend. I look at how they treat others. How they speak about others. I avoid them when their words don't match their actions.
Joseph is another person I have wondered about since childhood. I wonder what nationality he was, where his family went, and how his life turned out. Wherever they are, I hope they're disgustingly happy and have many grandchildren.