It was about 6:30 in the morning when she arrived. I opened the door and there she was. My Asja. My very 1st very best friend from the school bench. She arrived from India, where she now lived with her husband and their little baby daughter. We didn’t see each other for years. 4, 5, 6? I didn’t count anymore! Too many for sure. There were no words to describe my happiness and excitement about her staying at my place in Amsterdam for a week. But when I opened my apartment’s door to let her in, I almost crashed down and cried. I never told her this, but she scared me to death that morning. Asja looked almost like a ghost. Very skinny, super pale, very fragile, visibly weak, lost. Her enormous baggage looked so big next to her whilst she appeared so small and weak. It was such a ridiculous contrast that made her appear even more lost somehow.
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