Zimbabaway!

Me and my cousins were playing name place animal thing in the guest lounge shrouded in darkness, the only source of light being the bright purple screens of our phones. Every two minutes one of us would perk up and begin the countdown signalling the end of one game. In this instance it was me.

“One... Two... Three...” I went on in thinly veiled excitement.

“Wait! Tell me a place starting with Z,” Sara yelled out of the blue.

“Zimbabwe,” my cousin Zayn’s monotonous voice boomed in the hall.

“Thanks!”

“Eight... Nine... Ten! Stop typing, suckers!”

We all tallied our scores. Nearly all of us got 20 for each box. That was when I zoomed in on the spelling Sara had used for Zimbabwe.

“Zimbabaway!!!” I announced with a lot of unnecessary fervour.

A snort was heard and then laughter. We doubled over and smacked our thighs while I kept on announcing the spelling loud and clear. I’ve never laughed this much in my life.