Annette saw it in her mind’s eye, how Iris’ mouth made an ‘O’ just before she landed face first in the dirt. She wished it so hard her miniscule hands balled up into fists. ILLUSTRATION | JOHN NYAGA
Apple and eggplant coloured clouds promenaded across the faded sky, so washed out it looked grey. Dawn was breaking and as a fragile sun fought its way through the kaleidoscope of clouds, small shivering children arrived one by one to a large overgrown field, where they stood huddled in their respective cliques as they waited for the school gates to open.
Annette, tiny yet cartoonishly ballooned by her oversize jacket, stood by herself, flicking at dewy blades of grass.
