Memz D.

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She smelled the spice that always clung to her mother’s skin, Tolu’s sandalwood-scented oil, Amarachi’s jasmine perfume, Bola’s bath soap, Uzo’s baby powder. She felt Chinyere’s long nails pressing her arm gently, keeping her here. She couldn’t fall if she tried.
Memz D.
Beautiful
Death of the Author
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