I was laying on the un-cut grass. It was the end of the second world war. My dad had to go and fight and I got evacuated into the countryside. My mum stayed. Dad didn’t make it. I was hoping mum would be alright when I got home. She wasn’t. She got hit by a bomb. I was left with some foster parents. I’m in their garden right now. I try remembering my mum and dad. I suddenly realise how much I want to be with them. I have a knife in my pocket. Should I? I do. I’m finally with them.