Her Crown of Thorns

or, making everything look even more tired than it already was. Outside, Lagos was alive with its

lders throbbed with a pain I'd gotten used to, and my feet-stuffed into sneakers that should've been thrown away months ago-felt like blocks of stone.

ot enough. Rent was due in three days. My younger brother, Emeka, needed his asthma meds again. And the elec

wing feeling of anxiety. The kind that never went away. No matter how har

, I let my mind wander; imagining soft lights, clean fabric, and the scratch of pencil on paper as I brought one of my clothing designs to life. But it was a dang

rs, the grains spilled onto the counter ju

last table when I heard

d like he carried the weight of the whole city. He wasn't a bad m

low day again. The generator chewed up half our

what he was going to say. I wiped t

pped. "And your pay from yesterday... I'll need to hold on to it for

lap. A cold wave of fear cut through my exhaustion. He said it like

night. And for the thin line between just

as a lie one I told with every part of me. I gripped the damp cloth tighter, my knuckles

rds stayed trapped in my t

was fine with it, then shuffled

al. The numbers in my head, my careful plans has fallen apart like broken glass. That money was part

led behind me, almost mocking. I crumpled my apron in one hand, my uniform half unbuttoned beneath my old jacket. T

th the rumble of generators and the calls of late-night hawkers. T

ll of fears that I cou

s medi

rsening c

d's angry p

avier, like I was carryi

ds rang in my ear

delay, it wa

ght. I pictured him struggling to breathe, chest rising

had another job in two hours; cleaning offices downtown. No time to rest. No space t

tin shining under the lights. One of them, in emerald green, seemed to glow. It stopped me for a moment. My chest ached with longing.

y. Dreams like that didn't belo

the ones I tried har

were before Pa

tal bills at

legs stopp

worked herself

ere okay. There was laughter

everything together with tire

epended

ounted

, unshakable was the only

p, into anothe

a's dinner from earlier. beans and plantain, if I had to guess. I kicked off my sneakers, each movement sending sharp protests through my aching feet, and peele

getting ready for my second job,

The cover was creased, the edges frayed, but inside; it was sacred. The one place where I was st

le as I turned to a blank page. The pencil felt like an extension of something deep wit

ted to

red by Mama's Ankara wraps. I twisted the familiar patterns into something modern, something bold. Lines flowed into curves, a

I wa

op girl with her head d

hing through fluorescent-

r. The girl who saw stories

like a crown, and a skirt that poured down in layers like a waterfall. I called it Crown of Thorns; though I never said

e dream and the only thi

stolen minutes

ew minutes... I