Second Semester · by Ekemadu Obi
1. Chapter One
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Where it starts.
It started the way these things always start here: quietly, and on a Tuesday.
Nobody on the street agreed later about the exact hour, which is how you know somethinghappened. Memory in this place is a group project.
What everyone agreed on was the smell — hot metal and rain that had not arrived yet — and the fact that afterwards, nothing on that road was arranged the same way again.
This is the part of the story where I should explain. I am not going to explain yet.
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