Two years later, the teenager was as handsome as ugliness and as fair as oil on canvass whose orange had polka dots on it. His zeal had been fanned into embers of fame but his wings of soaring higher had been clipped. He sourced for money to complete his visa processes by working extra hours, trekking extra miles but was duped by an airline agents who had no shop, whose phone line was always reachable when payment had not been made. He could not find them when he was to make the last 20% of his charges to get the necessary document. The guys had relocated and known addresses had the same info — never heard of someone like that. The man that connected them had veered off immediately the connection clicked.
The Kalahari Review