The Wistful Dinner

added blog Literature

2026-08-25 11:18:38 -

The unemployment office on the river bend smelled of damp cardstock and stale coffee, a scent that clung to the cotton of my shirt long after I had left the queue. I was Babatunde Nwosu, forty-two years old and off-season, standing in the line of men who had lost their footing in the dot-com crash, watching the water level rise against the concrete steps of the cellar that flooded to the third...

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