by Nkateko Masinga Annette Batista Day Estranged from my mother for loving a woman the wrong way, my sister calls and asks How’s exile? Waterworks. I am crying in bed and my lover is dabbing at my face with cotton. Child of our cruel mother, here is a non-exhaustive list of what is wrong: The hot-water-bottle exploded between our legs in bed last night. We might just need more blankets to survive the Northern winter. She’s late for work again. I’ve bled through the sheets (Th