Sigh.
She guessed this was it. This creepy Victorian house would be her nyumbani indefinitely.
The wind blew the koti, jacket that normally hung at her knees flowing beside her. She'd have to remember to get the zipper fixed on it.
A gust of wind nearly blew the bangs in front of her right eye aside, she held it in place on instinct. She never liked it exposed, though not a soul was in sight.
Strange, this was a normally busy street. Not that she minded. She hated most other people.
Stepping up to the porch, she rang the kengele and waited. There was an machungwa, chungwa and white cat sitting on the edge. Making sure no...
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