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She shook her head as she walked through the narrow street, her Italian shoes slightly covered with mud. I guess she wished she wouldn’t have to pass there everyday. Looking at the people, the old women sitting on little stools watching the children as they played in the sand and mud, the women and girls cooking  before night fell, some men returning from work, she shook her head again and sighed quite loudly for the Ngo i knew.

It was Ngo. I was hundred percent sure but she was no longer lanky. She had grown into a very beautiful woman and her height was simply perfect.I don’t remember vividly what made me call off our friendship then but i wanted it back now. She glances back and i hide; i don’t want to be seen for now but at least I’ve found her. It suffices to trace her and probably beg forgiveness.

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