“I’m so happy to see you again, Ms Kamala” Isabella chimed, stepping further into the house. It's been a few years but the bonding seemed as intact as it was back then. She glanced at the room and knew Ms Kamala hadn't been living a comfortable life at all. On the side laid a narrow bed, the wall was damned on a side with moulds and some saw that side was getting cold from its other end. There were two chairs, old and weak but neat and well dusted. And an old lampshade just next to a table. “I am so happy too, my child” she replied, shutting the door and walking over to offer Isabella a rickety chair that seemed to crumble under a slim weight. Isabella forced a smile. Ms Kamala is not fine, living like this. How can anyone be fine living in such a smelly environment and in a room that seems a little wider than a narrow corridor? “You’re a good woman, Ms Kamala,” Isabella replied. She sat down but of course with a conscious care. Falling and getting her designer
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