I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Now I really knew what pain was.
Pain wasn’t being beaten unconscious. It wasn’t cutting my foot on a shard of glass and getting stitches at the pharmacy.
Pain was this: my whole heart ached, and I had to carry it to the grave. I couldn’t tell anyone my secret.
Pain sapped the strength from my arms, my head; I didn’t even want to turn my head on the pillow. And it only got worse.
I was skin and bones. They called the doctor. Dr Faulhaber came and examined me.
It didn’t take him long to figure it out. “It’s shock. He’s deeply traumatised. He’ll only survive if he is able to get over it.”
Glória took the doctor outside and told him, “He has had a shock, sir.”
“He’s been like this ever since he heard they’re planning to cut down his orange tree.”
“Then you need to convince him that it isn’t true.” “We’ve tried everything, but he won’t believe us. To him, the tree is a person.”
“He’s an odd boy. Very sensitive and precocious.” I overheard it all but I still didn’t want to live.
I wanted to go to heaven and no one went there alive. They bought medicine, but I kept on throwing up.
That was when something beautiful happened. Everyone in the street started coming to visit me.
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