Page 4 - and the man who loved cats
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and nodded. He never spoke much at breakfast.
Only his mother tended to waffle on.

   "Well, wrap up then. It's quite chilly out."
   "Yes, Mum." She wanted to fuss about him, but
she was held back by the fact that he was now a
young man. Much to his father's disgust – don't
pamper the boy, you'll turn him into a sissy – he
let her comb his hair. He allowed her this one
ritual because she felt quite lost now that he had
grown up.
   Crash, crash. He dug and pulled at the icy
water. Ahead was glitter. He had wondered during
his walk, why was it that when people attempted
suicide they did so naked? Was it a rejection of the
trappings of society? Was it some kind of
expression of freedom along the lines of we come
naked into the world and naked shall we go? Or
was it something completely opposite? Namely,
that they felt abused and worn down, that society
– or whatever – had taken everything from them
and they had nothing. That is, they felt exposed
and wanted to express this vulnerability in
nakedness. He did not know.
   "Look, I'll get a girlfriend when I'm ready."
   "Lighten up, son."

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