I should’ve known that I would get lost in a village I barely remembered, I couldn’t even remember Anty Nnenna whose burial we’d come for. I was about to cry when a lady passing by offered to help.
At the house, I turned to thank her but she’d already left. “Ada here’s your shirt for the burial” I collected the shirt from Mama but started shivering “what’s wrong?” But I couldn’t talk because nobody would believe that the picture on the shirt was of the woman who’d helped me. I should’ve wondered how she’d known the house I never described.


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