Cocktail Books Chronicles

 Two PM. As Boss was raising stakes at the undisclosed location, Naliaka was at the periphery of the shopping centre of the neighbourhood that many years ago harboured a young Boss. The shopping centre had all the characteristics of a sleepy town whose reserve energies had been sucked out, drop by drop by repeated failed attempts to develop. Buildings, looking as old as colonialism were covered by a thin layer of red soil, like somebody had taken the trouble to paint them. The newer ones, only differentiated from the older ones by the two storey design, looked like haunted houses, plants growing from inside, taller than the houses. Naliaka wondered where the owners were – dead, or did they have to see their unfinished works every day and weep for their failures? The road had patches of tarmac that looked out of place in the midst of red dust and potholes deep enough to swallow wheels of a small car. The trees paving both sides of the avenue were a mix of  green and red soil. It