Double Men: A Short Story from the collection, Reader, I Married Him. Namwali Serpell

trembly baritone, glancing at the bandage over her friend’s eye.

      They were in Mama Lota’s kitchen, sitting on a pair of rickety chairs inherited from the church when Pastor Chisongo died. The women watched the steam untangle above their teacups, shaking their heads at the old, familiar nightmare: able-bodied males with nothing to lose.

      A ferocious noise scraped through the window – a snarling, snatching sound. Nanjela started. The dogs were quarrelling. “But is it good to have these … doublemen around?” She shuddered. “They’re like demons.”