A forgotten Life

The vibrant yellow of the living room walls, meant to be cheerful and optimistic, suddenly seemed to press in on Amani, the air growing thick and heavy. The joyful sounds of his mother and grandmother exclaiming over the spaciousness of their new kitchen, the gentle clinking of utensils as Mama Halima began to instinctively organize her new domain, faded into a dull, distant roar.

He needed a moment, just a moment, to breathe, to fight back the suffocating tide of memories that the earlier, fleeting vision of his mother's past sorrow had unleashed. Excusing himself with a mumbled pretext of needing some fresh air, he stumbled out onto the back veranda, his legs unsteady, his heart hammering a frantic, panicked rhythm against his ribs.