“E dey hold him boxer with belt.”
“Na dat yeye pesin you wan marry.”
“Your head no correct.”
Her name should have been a balance between beauty, brain and wealth.
This was five years in the future and it felt surreal; relieving a life you’ve never lived.
A car key.
He held it out to her.
Instinct kicked in.
She hesitated, but her flesh was willing.
No cries of children.
Cynthia sits on a raffia mat.
“It’s time to take your medicine.”
The chief priest squats before her.