As those words sink in, the cluttered office cubicles become opaque…
Opaque through a veil of my tears.
Uneasy, the big man across the desk clears his throat,
“When a child cries for education and not the tavern, it is touching.”
In my perplexed state, his words do little to comfort me.
No letter means no bursary… No funding… No books…
Oh… How cruel the letter that has evaded me is!