She orders the same coffee every day—a cortado with a whisper of cinnamon. He’s been waiting four months to ask her name.
Wallace knows precisely when she’ll walk through the door: 8:43 AM, Monday through Friday. As a barista with dreams bigger than his tip jar and a heart more fragile than the foam art he creates, he’s perfected her order but fumbled every chance to learn who she really is.
Look, I get it. You’re tired. Tired of picking up another Nigerian novel only to be hit with colonialism, civil war, poverty porn, or some combination of all three. Don’t get me wrong – these stories matter. But abeg, sometimes a babe just wants to read about two people falling in love without having to…
When the invitation landed in my inbox to contribute to the “Call Me” multi-author series—a collection of standalone novels chronicling the lives of Africans studying abroad—I felt an immediate mix of excitement and sheer terror. Why? Because I hadn’t traveled much. Therefore, writing about a place I’d never been to felt like dancing on a…