Another phone call.

Essimmia felt so exhausted.

She was still sitting on the chair by the window, but instead of looking outside, she was now curling on the chair, hugging herself tightly. She dropped her face between her knees.

The phone continually rang, like it would never stop.

Essimmia did not move a bit.

She did not care who was calling her, unless it was that person.

But that person would never call her.

She was so tired; tired of her aunt persuading her to live with her; tired of people’s pity; and almost tired of waiting.

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