I sit within the confines of tin walls, combatting an unrelenting wretchedness refusing to lighten its grip. Hollowed tummies of innocence stare up at me, crying with echoes of the ancients. I feel the weight of Jean’s absence, his cowardly departure.
Gleaming coins become a momentous treasure afloat wells of water tormenting my soul, seeking release. I gather my sandals. Earthen sustenance awaits.
Along the path, my feet are immersed in dusty remnants of former times. I cannot bear nobility’s piercing gaze. We share the inescapable, the familiar longing of afflictions we dare not utter, yet manage to endure.
Heat penetrates my skin, putrid scents fight their way in. I remember our first encounter. Time and space were of no consequence; his aura consumed my own.
Alas, I muster the strength to reach the kiosk. Shame is not an option. I’ll take four pies, souple.
Bio: Mallory Anyango Dunkley was born in Nairobi, Kenya and raised in the United States. She has taught academic writing at the collegiate level for the past 11 years. Mallory is currently a member of the Full-Time Faculty at the University of Phoenix.
She finds inspiration in experiences tucked away, unspoken.