BY MIKE MUTHAKA I’m distracted. I’m standing next to a glass cabinet, staring in amazement at the contents. The door of the cabinet is locked. It has a golden keyhole and it opens up to rows of
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BY MIKE MUTHAKA My first real kiss came from the girl next door. Tongue and all. She was a year older than I and their fence was a brick wall. Her mom’s plants climbed that wall, clasping on the way –its twigs and tendons like sinewy old arms. Her saliva
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BY MIKE MUTHAKA The request hit Cathy’s Bureau at eleven thirty on a Wednesday morning. The phone in her office rung thrice before she picked up: “Cathy’s Househelps, how may I help you?” Cathy had been running the bureau for three years now, and answering the calls still gave her
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BY MIKE MUTHAKA The lollipop man outside Airtel lifts the stop sign at the zebra crossing. The cars at the front, on Mombasa Road, turn on their blinkers and there’s a red patch in the horizon. Said patch was a Subaru Forester. Minutes earlier,
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BY MIKE MUTHAKA “I thought you’d stay and have some cake,” she says. My mind starts opening up in all sorts of unexpected directions. Her parents are off to work and we’re alone in the house. “Which cake?” I ask with
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BY MIKE MUTHAKA You wake with a snap of the head, nauseated and sweaty. It’s 2AM. You feel feverish. Your head hurts. You forgot to close the windows when you staggered into the room. A
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