My right hand remained clasped around the long, slender glass that was now empty after I had gulped the orange juice in it in one long gulp. The weather in Accra was so hot. I needed a refill.
My brown eyes are brimming with joy. It is partly because of Shaimaa the young Egyptian lady who has become my sister for the three days that I have been in Cairo. She is one of those people who are born with joy on their forehead.
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