“I don’t need to listen to you, you moegoe,” were the last words he said to me before leaving. Our lives were full of happiness, we had money to buy our new house and feed ourselves. I had to go there and try to change his mind. He would never have answered me before my intervention. It's all my fault. The air sticks to me as droplets of fresh sweat run down my face. The dry season took its toll on the trees I usually hid under to escape the stifling heat. Cars sped by, their noisy engines mocking me. For the third time that morning, a car kindly stopped to see if I needed help. The idea of ​​jumping into the air-conditioned car pleased me, but I was not helpless. I watched the health workers strut around. I could see the dollar signs in their eyes. I looked away, afraid they would see me gawking at them. The cool air inside the Tanzania Employment Services Agency tickled my skin, giving me goosebumps. I gently placed my crutches to the side of my desk and plopped down in my chair. Paper hid the top of my old desk. Once all this work is done, I can leave. *** The check slid slowly across the desk, stopping just short of the edge. I rested my arm on the cool wood, trying to keep my balance while my other arm pushed the paper deep into my pocket. The corners of my mouth turned up in a small, necessary smile. Jakiya could finally get to school without having to beg for a car ride. Every morning when he left, worry would hit me. Every day I slumped at my desk wondering if he had ever been able to go to school. He always wanted to have his own bike, a red one to be exact. I wanted him to come pick one out with me, but I had to get home first. The doors opened using machines. The air hit my... middle of paper ... it made me late. “Asagi, I’d like to talk to you in my office,” my boss said in a monotone. I'll be there, sir," I said. I rubbed my forehead, wiping away the sweat that appeared. I pushed the chair back with my one sturdy leg with as much speed as I could. The crutches were in my hands as my arms pushed me from the low desk seat My hands slipped on the metal handles, making it difficult to move at my usual speed. My boss held the door open for me. His head reached the top of my shoulder. , but his posture was perfect. “I want to make this as easy as possible.” Asagi. You were too late and we can’t have that here. The most willing customers come in the morning,” he said...