Her eyes grew heavy.
As she drifted off to sleep, she dreamed of her son.
In the dream, she was back in the hospital—the one where they told her he had died. She remembered screaming, the nurses holding her down.
But in the dream, she saw him.
A baby wrapped in cloth, carried away by a woman in white.
She tried to run after him, but her legs would not move.
She woke up gasping, her heart pounding.
“Agu,” she whispered. “My Agu.”
Tears slipped down her face.
By late afternoon, the medicine had cooled her fever slightly, but not her hunger.
Her stomach growled, twisting in pain.
She had nothing left.
No bananas to sell.
No one to borrow from.
No strength to hawk.
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