Opinion | Chocolate milk – NRC

My brother and I argued with Mother again and the decision was made: run away! We packed our pressed cardboard red briefcase with socks, underpants and Donald Duck and started our adventure. Our slum in Gorinchem had only one way to the outside world and it passed our aunt, my mother’s sister, who had already been called, of course. As we passed her house, she called out, “Hey, would you like a cup of hot chocolate?” At night we slept in our own bed.

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