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The hospital waiting room was a little musty: the smell of dust covered the environment, a clear indication that harmattan was in the air. I could feel the tension in both our minds as I held tight to her hands and watched nurses walk around with files. We could see through the almost fallen window through to the laboratory where our blood samples were being screened.
...the Government has not done enough I whispered.
Across the room sat a man, I could guess he was in his late twenties, just like myself. He wore a disturbing look, his eyes were pale from worry, he sat with his face in his palms and was lost in thoughts, clearly, he was here for the same purpose as us. A nurse walked towards him, tapping life into him with her hands, she handed him an envelope and escorted him to the counsellor.
