[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.

Enter your comment here...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

Email (required) (Address never made public)

Name (required)

Website

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change )

You are commenting using your Google+ account. ( Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

	Ami on Cadaverine Magazine: open to w…
	AngelaBenson.com \| T… on Angela Benson, author of…
	AngelaBenson.com \| H… on Angela Benson, author of…
	Brittney on Chris d’Lacey, author of…
	Brittney on Chris d’Lacey, author of…

Leicester Review of Books