My heart is in Belgium

BY MIKE MUTHAKA 1. She leans closer and plants a wet kiss on his cheek. Her pouty lips linger on his skin, and I almost want to walk over there and ask if she could give me one of those, wrapped in her matte lipstick. They’re a playful couple. They

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Playing House

BY MIKE MUTHAKA I step out of the shower without a towel. I don’t need a towel. I’m home alone. Water drips from my scalp, down my back. It feels like someone has emptied a bowl of spaghetti on my head. My shoulders tremble. The stained glass window distills weak

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We got rats

BY MIKE MUTHAKA There’s a rat in my room. Nights I hear it clamoring behind the wardrobe. The other day I found my red boxers had been chewed proper. The ass area had a crater. Even my farts don’t do that level of damage. And my farts can kill. My

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All things lovely

BY MIKE MUTHAKA Saturday, 1.43 p.m. “Boys who say have a lovely night are suckers.” She’s recalling a text she received from a guy. “Have a lovely night,” it said. I imagine this text had an emoji at the end. Then I turn to her. I rummage around my noggin

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Love is a genre

BY MIKE MUTHAKA Alternative Rock ‘Wait for me’ by Rise Against ‘Adventure of a lifetime’ by Coldplay We drove around in your dad’s car, with ginger beer on our breaths. We cut through the southern bypass, the windows were up and I could have sworn this was love marinating to

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Gate pass

BY MIKE MUTHAKA Once in a while my school does a round of maintenance; door handles are fixed, walls are repainted, bulbs replaced, wonky desks are bolted tighter, the cafeteria menu gets a new font. The people who do these jobs are mostly unseen. During graduation they’re mentioned at the

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