Sarah brought out a small black nylon bag and unwrapped it slowly. Inside was a bundle of crumpled notes—the last of her savings.
“900 naira. This is all I have.”
The boy sneered. “You’re burning with fever and this is what you brought?”
Still, he stood and brought out three small items—two sachets of paracetamol and a bitter herbal syrup for fever and body pain.
“This will help. But you’re not supposed to be walking around like this.”
Sarah nodded, barely able to speak.
“Thank you. God bless you.”
He did not reply.
She left the shop, clutching the small nylon bag like it held treasure.
But she had spent everything.
And she was still hungry.
Back under the bridge, Sarah took the medicine with another sachet of water, then lay down on a carton that served as her bed. She wrapped herself in her faded wrapper and prayed softly.
“God, I did not ask for a mansion. I did not ask for cars. Just strength. Just one more day.”
She coughed—a dry, rattling sound.
Her throat was sore.
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