Flat 65

Sanuday lived in the 15th floor tower block. Her physical home was on the 9th, overlooking the picturesque caves, hills and cottages of Napa City. She celebrated her 35th, a few weeks ago. Friends and family threw her an unforgettable party at the cultural centre in Kwen Common. Her eyes to the sky, reminiscing as she sat on the balcony.

A seasoned seamstress, she worked from home, the clientele spanned the levels of society. A wax print, an ntuma (dress) by Sanuday was a collectors item, now! She had sown a nobilis tracksuit for Babaa, her daughter and friend of 18 years, who left for the University of Gowe to study carpentry that morning.

Djako, Sanuday’s husband, was out of the country on a business trip, a renowned property developer. She was happy he was away, a break from his drunken outbursts and verbal abuse, she could have a breather.

On the 10th floor, flat 65 lived Banbi. A quiet man who moved in earlier in the year, New Years Day. Banbi and Sanuday crossed paths intermittently, a quick chat by the stairs, in the lift, at the cultural centre. At times she’d be with her husband and daughter, doing the family rounds too.

Sanuday felt alone that evening, friends couldn’t fill that hole, daughter was gone, the uncertainty in familyhood, her husband, a shaky future.

Whilst coming from Sada Park, she tapped her key on the intercom to open the 7 foot Oak door. On her right and next to the post box shack lay a package, a letter bomb? Sanuday’s watch scanner declared safety, phew!

A peek to the package side, it was addressed to Banbi of flat 65. She punched in the code at the internal intercom to call the flat, no answer, he maybe out she thought.

She took the lift up to the 10th, knocked and dropped it. Banbi opened the door and saw Sanuday leaving. He called, she turned back and paced home.