There was a solitude about him, a kind of detachment that allowed him to unflinchingly leave things behind. Nobody really belonged anywhere, and he was not meant to belong to a single place; it was a thought he hanged onto like breath— and in turn, it offered him a sense of autonomy most people could never be comfortable with.

W eather temperature was just about thirty degrees Celsius; perfect warmth for Rebecca Dansowaa Brown, who was sharing a warm breakfast of clean dark coffee, and garnished ginger bread with Charles Richmond kwesi Anim, her partner of four years.

E sinam rolled onto her left side and fluttered her lashes. She laid quietly with her eyes open, staring blankly at the lower part of the wall, coated in bright orange oil paint.

Alice was alone in the richly furbished living room, balancing firmly at the tip of a creamy leather coach, nursing a glass of pineapple juice.