Brian ChikwavaZimbabweWriting2012
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In the evening you said little but glowered with bewilderment and betrayal whenever you gazed at me crouching on the floor at the other end of the lounge, and I set my eyes down, vanished into the task of clipping my toenails. What you thought then, I will not place my head under your hat to find out, though I will put it on my knee, face the people on this train and let them know I got it off a man who in the fullness of time had his last laugh and while at it, making a modest ripple in the moral pond when he sacrificed himself.