58

SIPHOSAKHE LUTHANGO

When I finally step into my house, exhausted down to the bone, the first thing I see is Nkosi , curled up on my sofa like he's the owner of the place, remote in hand, legs crossed comfortably as if he pays the bills here.

The moment he notices the black plastic bag dangling from my hand, he sits up straight, eyes widening in exaggerated curiosity.

"Bhuti… what is there?"