There were even times when my mum had to “borrow” bread from the bakery down the street. My mum would heat up a kettle on the stove, and I’d stand in the shower splashing the warm water on top of my head with a cup. Then I’d want to take a bath, and there would be no hot water. No electricity for two, three weeks at a time. Then I’d come home at night and the lights would be shut off. My father had been a pro footballer, but he was at the end of his career and the money was all gone. We didn’t have enough money to make it last the whole week. But I realized right away what was going on. Then she brought my lunch over to me, and she was smiling like everything was cool. She was shaking it all up, you know? I didn’t understand what was going on. But this time she was mixing something in with it. Then this one day I came home, and I walked into the kitchen, and I saw my mum at the refrigerator with the box of milk, like normal. When you’re a kid, you don’t even think about it. My mum had the same thing on the menu every single day: Bread and milk. I was six years old, and I came home for lunch during our break at school. I can still picture my mum at the refrigerator and the look on her face. I remember the exact moment I knew we were broke.
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