The Attic Child

by Lola Jaye

We were two children born in different centuries; lost and alone, yet connected by a set of experiences I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

We were all just trying to survive in this country.

There was a constant whispering in my ear that I was not good enough, that I was unlovable.

My face was wet as Dikembe finished the story of his life with Marjorie.