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This Harry

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This Harry

This Louis

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This Louis

—Harry, son, you must get up. It's late. — A female voice was heard stepping into the dark room.

She opened the curtains and the windows slightly. The boy stirred in his bed complaining, covering himself with the blankets over his head. 

—Harry, please. —The boy ignored her. His mother sighed, walked up to him and placed her soft kiss on his head over the blankets.

It was the mid 90s. The streets of England were covered in vast fog that fall. Anne was in the kitchen preparing breakfast for her son. Harry was a special boy. He had been diagnosed as a child with a generalized developmental disorder which was not specified. It is the kind of disease that affects being able to socialize properly with people. Either hindering verbal development with others or lacking the ability to easily interact with people. Everything in his head was fine. He didn't have any kind of cognitive problem. He was not a genius nor a fool. His brain was the same as a normal kid. The person closest to him, his mother, was the one with whom he exchanged the most words.  Any kind of human contact that wasn't hers made him anxious. 

He had suffered a panic attack because of his condition when he was a little kid on his classroom, the teachers and his classmates were very scared and had no idea how to control it, it was not until his mother arrived at the establishment when they finally managed to calm him down. From that day on, his parents decided that he would study at home with a trustworthy person, without exposing himself to so many people around him that could suffocate him. No specialist had been able to tell him precisely if Harry would stop being like that at some point in his life. But she did not lose hope.

She heard the boy's footsteps coming down the stairs and turned around, hiding something behind his back.

The sixteen-year-old adolescent entered the kitchen slowly wearing his striped pajamas, with his ruffled curls and rubbing one of his eyes with his fist. 

—Hi sun. How did you sleep? — she asked in a sweet tone as she served things at the table. The boy just shrugged, not being rude, and sat down. —Eat before it gets cold. —

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