Sal, you sure know how dazzle. I love this story. More please.

Moskeda Lounge

For those of you who read Leo’s story, I am going back to the past here to see how it all started.




The Presidential Villa was grand. It was nothing Emem had ever seen before. To her, it seemed everything in it was made of gold. The armed soldier that led her in had already walked her through a reception almost as large as her mother’s compound in the village and now he was leading her through a long hallway that boasted of expensive portraits of erstwhile presidents of Nigeria. She felt like Maria in Sound of Music the first time she entered the Von Trapp’s home, the only difference was that house was a joke compared to this.

They came out to another room with long drapes that caressed the glass-like floor beneath her; shimmering chandeliers hanging off the ceiling were like…

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