The Meeting

mr The meeting The wind blows its cold breath over my face, blowing my hair over my eye, obscuring my vision. I stand here on the corner, wintry the steps leading up into the train station. Its deviate how they have steps leading you up, only to have more than than steps leading you back smoothen, then further cut to the platforms. You have to wonder where the logic is in that. Where is the logic in so many things though? Where is the logic in drop off throwing us a freezing day like today, in the middle of summer. Where is the logic in keeping me from the truth about(predicate) my parents. That is wherefore I am here today, right now. I am going to meet my real father for the firstborn time, ever. My eyes dart frantically from over the faces of the people walk of life-time down the steps, then back to the creased photo in my reach sent to me by my father. His grey beard covers his smile, his receding sloven line reminds me of a university professor, or perhaps it is the beard. I peek back up at the commuters ru...If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: OrderEssay.net

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