06/10/2025
๐๐ฝ๐ถ๐๐ผ๐ฑ๐ฒ ๐ฎ๐ฏ: ๐ ๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ธ๐ฒ๐ ๐๐ฒ๐๐๐ผ๐ป: ๐ช๐ฎ๐ถ๐๐ถ๐ป๐ด โ ๐ฆ๐ฐ๐ฒ๐ป๐ฒ ๐ฐ: ๐๐ฒ๐ฑ๐ด๐ฒ๐ฟ ๐ฎ๐ป๐ฑ ๐๐ผ๐ฟ๐๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฑ ๐ ๐ผ๐๐ถ๐ผ๐ป
When Nene reached the front, the guard measured oil into her tin without meeting her eyes. His boredom looked like authority, flat and practiced. The hover drifted higher, lens still locked on the barrel. She pressed her ration slip into his palm, received the stamped return, and stepped aside.
Behind her, the boy who had muttered too loud shoved forward. The guard snapped, โBack!โ again, voice sharp as metal. The hoverโs cone blinked red once before softening back to pale. The boy froze, then retreated, face tight. The line steadied by force, not by choice.
Nene tucked the bottle into her satchel, checked the cap, and let her breath out slow. The glyph-mark cooled, its heat stored quiet again. She glanced once at the peeling poster on the wallโWAIT YOUR TURN. The words felt less like guidance and more like a test disguised as a rule.
She walked the long way home, past the sugar stalls and the neem tree, each step even. Patience had carried her farther than push.
๐ณ๐๐
๐๐๐: ๐ป๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐.
๐๐๐ฅ๐ก โ ๐ธ๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ 24 โ ๐๐๐๐โโ๐ ๐บ๐๐๐ก๐โ
๐ผ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐ , ๐๐๐๐โโ๐ ๐ฃ๐๐๐๐ ๐ค๐๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐ก ๐๐๐๐๐, ๐กโ๐๐ ๐ก๐๐๐ ๐ โ๐๐๐๐๐, ๐๐ข๐๐๐๐๐ ๐กโ๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐ก๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐ก ๐๐๐๐๐๐.
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Disclaimer:
All characters, events, and locations in this work are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real persons, events, or places is coincidental. This story seeks to honour and celebrate the cultures and futures that inspired it.
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ยฉ 2025 Huis of Kay Media. All rights reserved. This work may not be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted without express written permission.
