FOR PEOPLE WHO QUIT

Nairobi felt colder after 8 p.m.

Not physically. The city still breathed heat through cracked roads and crowded matatus, but after dark, everything became quieter inside people. Like everyone was carrying invisible wars home in plastic bags.

Eli knew that feeling well.

Every evening after classes, he sat outside the school gate pretending to wait for someone. In reality, he was waiting for time to pass. Going home early meant listening to his uncle complain about electricity bills and “lazy boys who read novels instead of making money.”

So Eli stayed outside.

Sometimes he watched headlights slide across puddles. Sometimes he counted strangers. Sometimes he opened his dead phone just to stare at old photos because even memories felt warmer than reality.

That Thursday, rain arrived without warning.

Students scattered. Vendors dragged their...