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  • I sit on the mattress bed in her room in Trivandrum while she eats dinner at her desk. I feel so close to her. This girl who used to cry every time we played Tag. I remember her as my younger, annoying cousin, plagued with allergies to everything from eggs to sunshine.

    "What do you do in this big city?"

    "Oh, I just go to my tutoring class (for a standardized test), and come home, and watch TV."

    "Really? In this glorious city, the capital of the state, that's all you do?"

    "Hm...you tell me, what are all the things you do?"

    "Oh...I suppose not much."

    The silence reminds us of the growing distance between us; how our relationship is defined by our mothers' perceptions of the other more than our own interactions with each other.
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