I had spent the night in Hetauda, which I can’t complain about since I drank tungba and ate sekuti, throwbacks from PST and unavailable in Birganj, but I was on the first bus the next morning as I was anxious to get back to school. I should have known. As I walked across the mall towards my school, I knew something wasn’t right. The grounds were quiet and the muffled hum of children was absent.
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