They keep testing my resolve. This time it’s a wooden sculpture of a little monkey. It was placed on top of a piece of paper which read; “Hey Monkey Boy, go back to Africa, your big-ass ape mama misses you” I looked about my front porch and checked my doors to make sure nothing was …
“You’re friends with the weirdo next door. I had no idea.” I say to Amaka. She affords me a distracted grunt and continues scrolling through Instagram. I pad to her bed and plop down. Then I snatch her phone. She looks at me, her face contorted in protest. “I didn’t know you’re friends with the …
