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JOY IN CHAOS
The first time Aisha laughed that week, the sound startled her. It came out suddenly, sharp and almost foreign, like a forgotten language her body remembered before her mind did. She was standing at the edge of Third Mainland Bridge, packed into a yellow bus that smelled of sweat, engine oil, and impatience. The traffic hadn’t moved in forty minutes. A hawker outside was selling plantain...
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