Thick gullets of fog gurgling down at my palm as i stand at the entrance of my paternal house. Me smoking invisible cigarettes, and feigning ignorance as soon as the father is anywhere in the vicinity. School socks scaling the length of my legs till right below the knobby knees. The grey school skirt perched just above them. Knees like eyes of the legs, except eyes that bend and coil. Cool breeze combing the placated skin behind the knees. The skin forgotten in summers, comes to pertinent importance during sub-liminal temperatures.

The left knee with a long inkdrop-looking scar. The right knee, scarless, boring. Bend on your knees and raise your hands—the school teacher tells me. The knees become grubby paws of a grudging puppy. The muck from the school floor sticking to my knobby knees as if that's their only mode of salvation. I feel cold. My stockings loose their sheen around the hole shaped knee areas a wee bit.