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Wrong Printer

The topic for today is ‘Sent to the Wrong Printer’. So, it’s 1:21pm and I’m in the middle of some unusually overwhelming work. A part of my brain keeps blinking *you don’t even know what you’re going to write for your article today* *you’re hungry, go and eat* *what food?* *maybe rice?* *we eat rice every day in this country!* You get sha. I was worried about my stomach and

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I wrote this last night. ‘It’s 1:25am and I’m awake. I’m up for two reasons. • My friend, Modupe, just woke me up with a call. • I’m plotting Ahmed’s murder. Modupe is my beautiful, unassuming best friend who would never hurt a fly. She is however married to an imbecile of a man; Ahmed. I have gotten countless calls like this in the past two years they have been

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