I am sitting in the library, watching the sky blur from pink to charcoal gray, remembering the many hours we spent together here. I miss you already, though it was just this morning that you left on the first leg of your journey to the United States. Periamma probably wants me downstairs, working on something or another, but she no longer has as much power over me as she once did. I suppose it's because we're engaged now and because I'm going to college. Returning to the house yesterday, I felt years older — no longer the child who had left Madras just a few months ago.
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