He’s forty-four. I think forty-fuckable. I check his height and it occurs to me that I’ve finally grown. Or maybe I’m just getting it now, the whole life thing. What’s certain is at thirty-sexy I’m getting on. I want someone to go home to. It’s why I’ve been craving an opportunity to scold my parents for jinxing me by exiting in a way that will never be partner-hooking-friendly.
Davina Owombre’s fiction appears in Queer Africa: New and Collected Fiction (MaThoko’s Books, 2013), See You Next Tuesday: The Second Coming (Better Non Sequitur, 2008) and at Litro Magazine. A finalist in Narrative’s Spring 2012 Story Contest and Glimmer Train’s December 2011 Fiction Open, she’s a believer in late-night laundry and also the sometimes pseudonym of an African writer who tweets insouciantly from the handle @dowombre.