“Urban Hunters” by Jesse Jojo Johnson.

Flash Fiction From GHANA

I woke up for the third time that afternoon. Okyerewaa no longer troubled my sleep: this time I did not dream.

When I opened my eyes, the motor of the ceiling fan had just gone off: the comforting hum was gone as the blades spun to a halt. The heat must have roused me, I thought, shaking off my covers, pulling the shirt off my back.

I was too lazy to actually get out of bed. My pillow was damp, the old mattress too depressed to provide any more comfort. I lay there adjusting to the dim room. I was thinking of Okyerewaa.

My next action was mechanical. I picked up my phone pretending to check the time. That goddamned icon. My heart beat faster anytime I saw a notification. After six months I’d pavloved myself into a mild frenzy anytime I got a message from her.

No new message from Okyerewaa this…

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