Monday, what have you become?

My love, I can’t do this anymore. I am sorry that I can no longer wait for your return. Oh, how I wish we could turn back time. But because we only have today, Monday my dear, I have to break up with you.

I wasn’t born a killer. I wasn’t ‘grown’ into one either. In fact, you would argue, I was born to be killed. The worst time to be Kenyan; the 1920s.

It is a shockingly cold morning at the tail end of June. And exactly to the day, when Georgina left our home.

In her bag, she packed the memories of our times shared, the air of our coffee-stained kitchen tops, the sweetness of a shared sunset, and the entire weight of my love.

70 years on since independence, finally the law discriminating against sexual orientation was totally scrapped. It was legal to marry. Although that meant freedom of expression, the court was stunned silent.

I looked away and stared at the big antique clock above the counter. Then, I began to cry.