Brian ChikwavaZimbabweWriting2012

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.