This low key reminds me of my house back in Bangladesh so here’s a story from one of my holidays there.

I sighed softly to myself as I walked around the house.

_I’m so bored_, I thought to myself.

I couldn’t play with my rabbits because they died last week because someone had put them outside in the sun for too long. It was my grandma. She tried(and failed) to blame it on me.

I looked outside and I decided I was going to take a walk around the neighbourhood.

I put on my shoes and just as I was about to step outside, my three year old little sister ran over with a smile.

"You wanna come?"

She nodded excitedly and puts her little shoes on.

"Okay," I nodded. "But make sure you don’t let go of me, okay?"

She nodded again and we exit the house together.

Just past the cows that we kept in the brick stables, there was a lake. The lake contained many fishes and men from the neighbouring house always came there to fish — sometimes even strangers.

I always liked to walk around the lake to gaze at at the view. It was so pretty. The trees towered over it creating a nice shade.

There was another house on the left side of the lake that we never went to. It looked like it was ran down so you can imagine my surprise when my mother told me someone lived in there. Turned out, it was my grandma’s cousin.

There was another house right next to ours, that’s my grandma’s brother. Or something like that. I could never keep a track of our family line.

Suddenly, an old man with a long grey beared and a lazy eye walked over to us. I did not recognise him.

I pulled my sister behind me to shield her away from the man.

"Are you two supposed to be out here?" he asked in Bangla.

"Jeoi," I nod. "Amar ‘mar zanier." _Yes. My mother knows_, I lie. I swallow hard as he steps closer. "I got to go!" I say in English, not paying any mind to the fact that he must not understand me. "Bye!" I run off with my little sister, almost falling in my hot pink flip-flops.

We run into the house and into the living room.

I look down at my sister and slump against the door.

She’s giggling. That’s when I realise: she really has no idea what’s going on.

Later that afternoon, I’m getting told off by my mum. Turns out, the man lived next door. He snitched on us. Well not on purpose or anything. Apparently he was talking to my mum about that encounter, laughing about it. Then my mum told him that I never asked to go outside. So here I am now, getting told off for going outside an nine years old as a girl with my three year old little sister by myself.

At least he wasn’t a kidnapper.