AT A VILLAGE FUNDRAISER GATHERING The woman stood akimbo, her face twisted in a a scowl as the man squeezed his away from the pit latrine, refusing to pass by the tap where the guests needed to wash their hands. Are you going to wash your hands, sir? She fumed. No, madam. I was merely in their for a short call. Dont you realise you touched things in there? Like... Yes I did. So? So wash your hands! But would you still have asked me if I touched my forehead, my knee, my eyebrows? There is a difference, sir! Explain it to me, madam. Its not my job! You should be fired for this one too, madam, he said with a grin and left. Flash fiction by Oduor Jagero
Posted on: Tue, 21 Oct 2014 08:22:38 +0000