Ackee Blossoms: The Memories Of The Night

My legs swing in slow-motion, my bare heels hitting the concrete wall with the whisper of a thud. I lean my back against the old, rusty pole used to keep the clothesline in place, positioning myself in the furthest corner of the yard, willing the dripping-wet school uniforms to keep me hidden from any eyes. I’ve been sitting here for three hours, my first attempt at circumventing my usual Sunday morning chores seem…