I’m coming. Agu.” She handed the phone back to Anthony, put her elbows on the table, and let her head fall into her hands. Hassam, the soldier who had tried to administer first aid to Adaora’s daughter, had left. He said he was going to try to restore peace to Victoria Island. Adaora was glad he was gone. The windows were open to let in fresh air—hot, humid air. The house stank of smoke, regardless. She wasn’t sure if it was from the fire Chris had put out or the burning house a block away. With her eyes closed, the sounds of windows being smashed, a door being kicked in, screeching tires, and people running and shouting on the roads and lawns was louder. She peeked through her fingers at the tiny monkey sitting on the kitchen table looking sullen, and her belly cramped from suppressed giggles. The monkey was fuzzy, soft, brown, had a pinched face like a sour elder, and was so small it could comfortably sit in the palm of Adaora’s hand.
