C19 DEPORTATION

You didn't read Margaret's text twice.

You read it five times.

_Pack one bag. Leave my grandson. He is a Black. He stays._

Liam was asleep on Mama Nduta's shoulder, his mouth open, his small dinosaur t-shirt with syrup stain from morning. Your son. Who said "light" before "mama."

And this woman, who had never held him, wanted you to leave him.

Mama Atieno was still on the ground at the gate