“Adjeley” by Ato Kwamena Bentsil.

I could do with a whole bath. Instead, I stand in the bath cubicle with my feet stretched out into the shower. The cold water washes off the dust collected on the dusty red road I walked. I feel my body react to the soothing liquid. It begs for more than just the feet. I ignore the pleas and turn off the shower to avoid more temptation. I’m in no mood to play to-be-or-not-to-be mind games with myself.

Adjeley left today and I’ve being very lonely. She said she’d be gone before I returned from work so I only made a quick stop at home to drop my documents before going for the mournful stroll. She had no plans of coming back soon; the earliest I could hope for was a year. Mogadishu. That’s where she is headed. The very name sends bitter bile up my throat. I can’t go…