Papa


Traffic drone floated up from the road. A steady rain peppered the roof of the marquee under which I was having my breakfast. The noodles tasted bland and the tea was unpleasantly sappy. I looked across the table and saw Papa enjoying his noodles, making slurping sounds. There was a content look on his face and I couldn't help asking myself what made him still enthusiastic about life despite his old age and his Parkinson's disease?

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