The Golden Song
Act I Abena Achebe sat in the windowless classroom, the air thick with the damp, mineral smell of the Niger delta pressing against the mud walls. It was the third week of sideways rain, a physical weight that made the roof leak in steady, rhythmic taps. She held the withered hibiscus stem in her left hand, its petals long since brown and curled, while her right hand rested on the ledger. The...
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