“Psst…Lewis…are you awake?”. I hear little Timmy call out to me, but I pretend to be asleep. “Psst..Lewis….” he starts again. I sigh. The boy was persistent and it would do me a world of good to just acknowledge his calling. “What is it, Timmy?” I ask, hoping that he wasn’t going to climb up the bunk bed as he usually did. It’s not so much that I minded his inquisitiveness and the so-called ‘morning welcome calls’. I just hated morning breath. I hated it on me. And I hated it on others. Precisely why I never speak to anyone until I’d brushed my teeth. And I’d much rather that the others didn’t speak to me till they’d cleansed their mouth either. But one can only hope.

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