There’s a group of young men that come to the estate for menial jobs.
I call them the ‘helping hands’ because they help with whatever errands including gardening, car-washing, fetching water, gas and fuel runs for a token.
I became very fond of one of them in particular due to his quiet and easy-going mien. His name is Peter. I can’t remember a day that I didn’t meet Peter smiling, yet he doesn’t talk much.
About a year ago, I…
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