She invited him in. He sat on a wooden stool, while she returned to her pot. The battery-powered radio crackled to life, and Lucky’s voice filled the small kitchen, rich and pleading:
“The one that’s playing now,” he said softly. “Lucky. ‘Love Me The Way I Am.’” Lucky Dube - Love Me -The Way I Am-
That song, Love Me The Way I Am , was his secret prayer. He’d listen to the lyrics about acceptance, about not demanding change from a lover, and his chest would ache. He imagined a woman who would see past his limp, past his face, into the careful, gentle man who stitched beauty into seams. She invited him in
She smiled, a real smile that reached her eyes. “That’s my favorite.” “Lucky
But every evening at six, he opened his window just a crack. Not for the air. For Thandiwe’s radio. For Lucky Dube.