By David Kwame Kwakye
Warm tears crawled down my pimple-ladden cheeks at the Kotoka International Airport when Mary left for Canada. I had held on tightly when we hugged, not wanting to leave her comforting embrace. Mary and I shared an uncommon love, transcending the physical and attaining near-spiritual status. There were times we could complete each other’s sentences. When Mary was ill, someway, somehow, I could sense it. And my call would always confirm that intuition.
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