[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.

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