Death of the Author

by Nnedi Okorafor

Zelu sighed, wishing she could just let her body drop and curl up in the dust. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to be who I am.” “Stop thinking about it. Just do it.”

“This was a very good story.” Then Oji added, sounding even more aware of himself, “I feel satisfied, but also not. It reminds me of myself, but it is not about me. I feel like I’ve met those I have never met. I’m thinking things I never thought before. I have many questions.