Thuli feels a bit misty as she remembers the years: Mandla as a mop-headed eight-year-old, affecting a slight lisp as they played maths games together; Mandla as a reserved teenager, mirroring her own awkwardness and preoccupation with self-image.
My dilemma is that I cannot kill Thuli without laying myself open to erasure, Mandla lectures itself.
A small, dented globe of puke-green fire wobbles to life in the centre of the room. “Sorry, I’m a bit…” Bulumko doesn’t finish what he’s going to say: the ‘something’ he stumbled over is a corpse.
It turns out that Leticia, a childhood play-mate of his, who lived with her dad, just a few streets down from his mom’s house, has been disembowelled. She is not dead yet: head cradled in the night-watchman’s arms, she lingers.
While Leandré and Saloni bitched over the style of Leandré’s neckline, Darren had been entertained by Arno in a mysteriously unlocked deli, complete with retro waitress. Arno told him, “There are rules,” and “Every time you lose your temper you place your sister at risk.”