Ejima yawned widely, not bothering to cover her mouth. She rested her weight on the broom and allowed her bright gaze to wander through the place she now calls home. It was nothing close to the size of her husband's compound, and the dried leaves that carpeted the floor made her want to cuddle under her skin. Bloody cashew tree. She hissed and wiped the sweat drop that had strolled towards her eyelid. Leaning away from the broomstick, she continued with her chore, hoping to be done before the sun hangs on the centre of the earth.

But for the many trees, nothing stood for miles, just her small hut and the grasses. It would take about eight to ten miles before the next house could be seen. Seven weeks have passed since they drove her out of her husband's place, to this serene environment whose loneliness could make a ghost run out of wit. If hardship had not been her best companion all these years, she would have died of boredom.

Dropping the broomstick, she packed the gathered leaves
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