Blood is Dirt

Cover Blood is Dirt
Authors:
Genres: Fiction
Thursday 22nd February.
  The cabbie didn’t say a word, just pulled away, looking at me out of the corner of his face. He was nervous. He knew the colour white people were supposed to be.
‘You vomit out the window,’ he said after a minute.
‘I’m OK,’ I said, breathing back the heavy breakfast, trying to filter out the taint of tortoise air freshener.
Snooping wasn’t working. The level I was at, you snooped around, you got your car smashed to a Dinky, a chargrilled pubis and a welding course for
...psychotics. The business was being taken seriously down to the lowest possible level.
I checked out of Y-Kays with a damp shirt and a plastic bag. In the hours it took to get to the Eko Bridge Motor Park for the long-haul taxis to Cotonou I persuaded the cabbie that there was only one future for him and it didn’t involve a past which featured our visit to Bar Beach. He was a young man, but wise enough to know where he’d never been.
I waved him off at the motor park but didn’t take a taxi.
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