Drip! Drip! Drip! Drip! Drip! The dripping sound was relentless; the emptiness of the room amplified the sound of each water drop in the cast iron sink. Drip! Drip! Drip! Drip! Each drop echoing through the room, the walls peeling from years of heat and cold, the terrazzo floors still sturdy, but cold despite the
Things were thick! Really thick! The ‘Government’ had walked in and there was no saving grace. She had walked in through the door soaking wet and stinking. It was flooded outside and we had forgotten the clothes on the washing line which were now completely drenched. “What have you been doing all day Akinyi?” the
Kibe wiped the misty mirror and looked dead into it, his eyes were puffy and red, his skin was drooping and the grey hair seemed to be overtaking his face. His alarm rang again, he sighed. It was 4.30 am. He lifted himself from the sink and flexed, his chubby frame jiggling in the mirror
The doctor kept tapping on his wire rimmed glasses repeatedly as if to emphasize a point. Onditi was uncomfortable. He had been lying on his back, legs spread and his family jewels exposed from under the thin hospital garment. The doctor stood in front of him looking at his genitalia. “Not good!” the doctor said
Sukuta sat on the ground head bobbing between his spread legs. His right arm rested on his right knee wielding a machete with crimson blood steadily dripping on to the dust near his feet. His son passed out on his lap, his face pale and dirty, his mouth dry and ashy, is arms and legs