Summer has an odd way of lasting forever and vanishing in an instant.
One morning, our grandmother told us that my father would be coming to collect us the following morning. She said this without a trace of emotion. I looked at my grandfather, who did not look up from his newspaper.
My first feeling was one of joy; I missed my parents. But that joy was soon diluted by the realisation that the secret library in the attic would no longer be at my disposal.
Only, the secret library was no longer a secret, and neither were the frequent visits my brother and I had been making. We had both borrowed several books by this time. Nothing that either one of us read was a bore to the other, but we definitely had our favorite subjects. I tended to read more books about history, adventure, and other countries. He…
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