Nausea weaves through my stomach and lashes a cold tide down my back. The rich taste of home that settled my being only yesterday now lurches in a sour, burning sensation against the back of my throat.
“Maybe just some boiling water?” I shiver and hand my cup to the woman who filled it only a moment ago with enthusiasm. “Sorry, sister.” My hands tremble and I rumble through my bag.
“Too spiced then?” Warm lips press on my clammy forehead. “The food yesterday?” Karma’s cheeky smile meets my lips. His long hair hangs loose, his shirt lays half-open, and the scent of him and me and the long night behind us lingers around.
“I tell you; she’s going to be a fierce one, that little girl of ours.” He slings his chuba on the seat beside me. There’s not a trace on him of the copious amount of
