Somewhat it was reaching his head. The pain was unbearable. It’s
delirious.
In some corner of Somalia, the sun was at its peak.
Sucking the juice out of his body and life.
He saw a small kid far away leaning on to something. He felt
his legs were running. What is it?
Ahhh!!! Water!!!
Hunger and Thirst gets over him. He hits the kid with one
blow. The twelve year old hits back. But the kid can hardly stand. His limbs
were thinner than a twig.
Rage strikes him and he picks up a stone and hits the kid on
his head. The kid stumbles to the ground motionless. Dark colored something
smears the parched earth.
He gorges onto the small puddle of muddy water, and he drinks
like a king.
Buule felt a strange sort of calmness engulfing him. How he
longed for a sip of water.
He looked at the man for one last time. He seems to be
familiar.
Buule couldn’t even say proper good bye to his father.
