[Short Story] Ophelia, by Ambrose Musiyiwa
I am my Beloved’s but my Beloved is not mine.
We were sitting on the edge of the road when she asked me: “What do you think of my Beloved?”
I didn’t want to think of her Beloved.
“Well?” she probed — big, bright, brown eyes looking up at me as if I were a genius about to grant a wish.
“Well, what?” I asked, looking away.