THE DOOR THAT WOULDN’T OPEN
I hesitated before entering the yard. I kept asking myself if I was doing the right thing. I knew Rebecca as kind… caring… respectful. Maybe everything I heard was just anger from others. Maybe she was still the person I knew. It was time to talk. I knocked once. Before the door opened, the outside toilet behind me creaked. She stepped out. “Mamakhe… hi,” I greeted softly. She washed her hands in the basin without looking at me, then walked toward me. “What are you doing here?” she asked. “I just came to see my daughter—” “She’s asleep,” she cut me off. She went inside, came back carrying a washing basket full of dirty clothes, then shut the door behind her before I could even look inside. “I’m busy. Just leave.” I swallowed. “And… are you alright?” “What makes you think
- Writer
