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That day I kept the rice with water and closed the lid of the pressure cooker and kept it near the burner. It was a luck try that I thought Jomela must want to see what was its inside and she wouldn’t fix the lid again. When she entered into the kitchen I listened attentively the sound of the kitchen. Few minutes later I heard the sound of her trying the lid with the pressure cooker. It went for about 30 seconds, then I entered and asked “Jomela, kono somossa? (any problem?)”Jomela looked at me, smiled shyly and told “dhaknada lagaite partesi na (I can’t fix the lid)”. I smiled and told “thik ase amake dao, ami lagiye dissi (okay give it to me, I’m fixing it). I stood near her and told “kivabe lagate hoy, sikhey nao (learn how to fix it)”. Then I fixed the lid and told “eivabe ghuriye dhaknata vitore dhukabe and tarpor eivabe abar ghurabe, tarpor ei clip diye atke dibe, bas hoye gelo (first you have to insert the lid turning such, then again turn such, then lock it with this clip, it. That little prick, what the fuck happened to him? He’s ripped, and taller too! It’s like puberty hit him in twenty minutes and then left… fucking up my work just cause he’s bigger, I’ll show him. This better be worth my fucking time… Conner decided telepathy was one of the greatest things ever when he reached into his dad’s mind as though he had always done it. Then he took it a step further. “ Dad, you will not yell. You will listen and you will obey without question.” With those words and a quick reach into his father’s mind, Conner had mind control down. “ You will not be rude or disrespectful to me, and you will treat me as though I’m actually your son. You will defend me when anyone asks you what happened at school, and you will say you don’t know what I did to get so… ripped I guess.” With that, Conner decided he didn’t want to alter his father too much, and made him return to the phone call, starting with an apology.Conner walked right past his sister and mother on the way to.
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Well, he seems to be anyway. I turn my head to have a look at him again and, as he is so close I am kind of inspecting his eardrum. He pulls away, startled. Now it's my turn to apologise. “Sorry.” “Sorry,” he repeats. “Ugh. Shut up!” I say, and my sullen, harsh voice dissolves into a laugh. Thankfully, he laughs too. His face which, up until now, is a picture of concern and worry, transforms into an open and bright vista. He has the most perfect, white teeth that I have ever seen, and tiny freckles that cross the bridge of his nose and peter out on the tops of his cheeks. He throws his head back, and then flops it back down again, in obvious relief that the tension that I had created has now gone. I can't help but notice the distinct bulge of his Adam’s apple in his pale, smooth neck. Maybe he is my age then. Mind you, no stubble on that smooth skin of his. Simon turns his boyish, pale face toward mine and we sit there, looking at each other. “So, Simon.” Considering I am generally a.

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