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It’s long past noon. Back from school, I swiftly gulp down lunch and pack my bags. For coaching class. Drowsy and worn out, I yawn. My tutor shouts, but it’s not important. I’m going through all this, just for Mom and Dad.

Tuitions finish, but it’s still long to roost.  I await Dad, my classical music class, and of course, a long night of schoolwork .

Twilight sky turns crimson as our car halts at a traffic signal. I roll down my windows, gazing. At a playground far away.

Fits of mirth ring aloud, fun and frolic all around, and kids as old as I, swing and roll.

I look on, oh, how I wish. To cavort, to play, to laugh. Sky as my roof, grass tugging at my foot, companions many, shining and joyful.

“Ordinary kids.” Dad fathoms my thoughts, “Not you but. You, my child. Bright… a young prodigy.”

I sigh, if only I was no whizz, but normal. Normal school, normal chums, normal folks…

You say I’m outstanding Dad, but wouldn’t you wish I’m happy?

All I want is a normal childhood, a childhood to harbour. Would you just grant that?

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