He browsed through my moms dresses. She had only chudidars. He took all those dresses out. He went to his room and came with a bag. He opened the bag....It was full of new dresses. First he took out a t-shirt and jeans. The t-shirt was made out of a flimsy white cloth. It was totally see through. The jeans was just a normal one. He then took another dress. It had a sleeveless top and a short skirt. The skirt would cover only her thighs. It will leave her white smooth legs in the open. The next. “Meggi! Do not say such a thing! It is bad enough that you are Welsh. Would it be that you were Catholic, we would not be friends.” The words hurt as though Meggi’s heart itself had been stitched. She knew that Anne was a good person deep down; it just seemed that the good had been buried more deeply since she had married her tea merchant. Anne’s husband had been away for eight months and Meggi knew that she waited for her beloved’s letters as a drowning person waits for breath. Still. That. More

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