Short fiction | Old Love by Nana Sule | The Arts-Muse Fair
Photo credit: Aminu S Muhammad OLD LOVE BY NANA SULE There was a knot in her throat. It was always there in moments like this. It would tighten right there, then well its way into her stomach, just below her navel. There, it would settle and the decision would be made. And she would feel the words climb all the way from her stomach, claw at her mouth, till she let them spill. The it’s not you, it’s me theory. And so when she opened her mouth this time and they came out, she did not stop them. “It’s not you. I have… I have so many things I need to… to, to do. First” The silence lingered a little longer this time. Longer than the ones from the last three. There was the one she really liked. The one with the beard like Ahmed’s; trim and covering only his chin. The one that she had told over the phone, because she couldn’t look him in the eyes, that it wasn’t him. It was her. And then she listened quietly, memorizing every sob he tried to stifle, every word t...