“I’m sorry.” It was a simple statement, filled with honesty and sadness, but truth was evident in the man’s voice . . .
The rain stops now and I shake my head to fling the last drop off my big straw hat. It have a freezing trickle of water running down my arm, a silver ball escaping down to the tip of my finger. Forest rain does be like that: cold in the humidity, shining like hell when the light touch it . . .
At night you lie awake, kept up by the sounds of running feet and children’s eerie laughter . . .
Featured: Black Interest
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- Jesus Boy
- Addis Ababa Noir (Ethiopia)
- Trinidad Noir
- All or Nothing
- The Half That’s Never Been Told: The Real-Life Reggae Adventures of Doctor Dread
- Becoming Abigail
- Sale Nelson George Two Book Set
- Confessions of a Ex-Doofus-ItchyFooted Mutha
- Anna In-Between
- Home: Social Essays
- The Roving Tree