06/10/2025
๐๐ฝ๐ถ๐๐ผ๐ฑ๐ฒ ๐ฎ๐ฏ: ๐ ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ธ๐ฒ๐ ๐๐ฒ๐๐๐ผ๐ป: ๐ช๐ฎ๐ถ๐๐ถ๐ป๐ด โ ๐ฆ๐ฐ๐ฒ๐ป๐ฒ ๐ฏ: ๐ฃ๐ฎ๐๐ถ๐ฒ๐ป๐ฐ๐ฒ ๐จ๐ป๐ฑ๐ฒ๐ฟ ๐ฆ๐๐ฟ๐ฎ๐ถ๐ป
The air thickened. Children whined, traders shouted closing prices, and smoke from frying plantain drifted into the queue. A boy behind Nene stamped his feet, restless, muttering, โToo slow, too slow.โ The sound pressed like a drumbeat.
Neneโs satchel strap dug into her palm. She smoothed it once, grounding herself. Her breath count ran steady, though her ribs wanted to rush. Four in. Two to hold. Six to let go. The glyph-mark pressed harder, as if it would flare if she loosened her hold.
Two men near the front argued, voices sharp. One shoved the otherโs shoulder. The guard finally raised his eyes, scrolled fast on his handheld, and barked, โBack!โ The word cut the air short. Both men froze, then stepped away, grumbling. The hover cone narrowed, sweeping their bodies, then blinked green.
The line exhaled, tension easing slightly. Nene used the moment to steady her own chest. She let the count shrink small, shoulders low, palms flat. She told herself the wait was not wasted; the wait was the test.
The barrel gurgled again, the sound sharper this time. The guard muttered something into his handheld, eyes flicking toward the back of the line. People quieted, bracing for a cutoff.
๐ต๐๐๐ โ ๐ฌ๐๐๐๐๐
๐ 23: ๐ด๐๐๐๐๐ ๐ณ๐๐๐๐๐: ๐พ๐๐๐๐๐๐ โ ๐บ๐๐๐๐ 4: ๐ณ๐๐
๐๐๐ ๐๐๐
๐ญ๐๐๐๐๐๐
๐ด๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐ 10 ๐ท๐ด
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Disclaimer:
All characters, events, and locations in this work are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real persons, events, or places is coincidental. This story seeks to honour and celebrate the cultures and futures that inspired it.
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ยฉ 2025 Huis of Kay Media. All rights reserved. This work may not be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted without express written permission.