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125. Mango, Shower

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I’ll be waiting near my bedroom window with a torch where the mango tree, heavy with fruit, touches the sill. Its branches will sway as the wind circles our three-storey house. The rain will follow a loud clap of thunder down on the tin roof of the garage. Hound will bark and run onto the porch, looking up at me expectantly. I listen for soft thuds. As the first few mangoes hit the ground, Hound and I will run out in the rain to gather them up. I think he’s the only dog who likes mangoes as much as I do.

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