Zikora

by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

We didn’t talk about marriage itself, but we talked often of the future, what we would do and wouldn’t do in five years, in ten years, as though we both knew it was inevitable that we would be together.

Some kindnesses you do not ever forget. You carry them to your grave, held warmly somewhere, brought up and savored from time to time.

My father told jokes and laughed and charmed everyone, and broke things and walked on the shards without knowing he had broken things.