Another piece i wrote for a sister-blog. Hope you enjoy the read.
The intoxicating smell from the ground. Musty yet pleasant.
Better than the pungent smell from the toilet.
Baba Fatima had refused to fix the pumping machine since it broke down over a month ago and I was in no mood to walk ten (10) miles to get water.
Tragically, I couldn’t afford to pay anyway…
The windows creaking from age, the doors slightly banging against the wall because the hinges had started to rust…
Power was out.
This I was used to due to delayed payments.
The oil in the lamp was running out.
It was yet another cloudy day. The third day in a row.
The rain became my shelter and this darkness has become my haven.
Would this weather ever let up? Or are these just excuses I use to procrastinate the inevitable?
Waiting on the miracle that never comes because I had run out of luck.
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