
Last week, I was at your house to see your roommate, Shewa. You were sitting in front of the veranda on a kitchen stool crying. I stopped to ask what the matter was, but I knew it was a wrong time to engage in any discussion with you. I left you alone and went in to see Shewa. I was concerned. It’d be the third time I’d see you crying profusely. There had been other times though where you looked...