Her fingers trailed along the walls of Ikenna’s hut. It felt like the bark of a tree. It held deep cracks sprawled across it, in the shape of lightening bolts. It was crowned in raffias for a roof, and the air smelled like wet wood. Goats bleated carefreely, grazing the little patches of grey low-cut grass.
“So?” Ikenna said from behind her, beaming with excitement. “What do you think?”
Chief had promised her a big house in a city, but she wanted Ikenna, against her father’s wishes. This would be her greener pastures. With time.
“It’s perfect,” she replied.


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