BO’S THIRST.

Msichana Mdogo

He sat there, in his rover.  He’d sat there close to ten minutes already and he hadn’t moved an inch. He wondered, “What am I to do again?” He couldn’t seem to remember.  White noise on his radio was suddenly cut by his commanding officer’s voice, bringing him right out his daze. 

 “Bo, do you copy? Head back to base. Your mission is over. Bo? Bo, we need you to move…we’re losing night… Bo? Do you copy?”

“10-4, this is Bo. Heading back to base now.” he said gruffly.

Her body kept growing heavier; she lay limply across the front seat, her head nestled in his thighs. He didn’t want to move her. He did not understand why. He had never been here before. He could hear his rover’s tires plough the fine sand. Desert nights are cold, even so, he had beads of sweat all across his brow.  Anticipation…

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