Vincent de Paul - Kenyan Writer
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Unbroken Happiness
Unbroken Happiness

I knew the kind of death he would have, but most importantly, the last person he saw and the voice he heard before he succumbed.
One minute I was asleep, snuggled in the crook of his arm, his semen drying up between my legs. Another, I stood over him, so gentle in sleep.
You don’t trifle with people’s emotions. No, you don’t get to trifle with my feelings, my heart.
For the first time, I smoked, blew the smoke leisurely through my mouth and nose, and dropped the cigar.
The curtains caught fire first.
When he woke up, he hunched over and clutched his stomach. Then he started coughing, moaning, and screaming in that order.

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Best Friend
Best Friend

Love was a problem for me. It was a complexity I tried to convince myself that I didn’t need; a combination that had been denied to me by my vocation. In my third year of theology at the seminary I was yet to hear the voice of God calling me to serve Him. Professionally, I

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