Prose

Billy K. Boruett: Curtain Call

“Not too far from where I live there’s a bar.” Juma looked across the table, partly startled by the visitor’s sudden icebreaker. It was all the words he had let out, aside from the reluctant response to his greeting some minutes ago. “It’s quite old,” he continues, “I go there sometimes. It’s not my preferred type though. The people that frequent there go in their high-end suits; a sharp contrast...

Prose

Waliyah Oladipo: Coat of Colours

The easiest thing to do is love something, or someone that’s wrong for us. I knew this a long time ago, because I watched it happen to my parents. I watched their skins wear because of it, and I watched them trapped, because their true selves were smothered by the force of it. When I was five, I told my best friend, Bukola, while we played with our ragged pink dolls, that I would not marry if the...