Letter from 'KDF' soldier to his love: Waiting for tomorrow

She sat by the window, gazing into the horizon, motionless, nothing seemed to disturb her, not the eerie whistle nor the biting cold of the wind made her budge. She was a sorry state, her short black hair was unkempt, like the  Makuti roofs in the homestead, her finger nails were dirty, chipped and the pink nail polish resembled the peeling green paint of her wooden window panes, the soles of her feet bore a striking resemblance to the rifts on the earthen floor. 

Her skin looked like it had been deprived of oil for years, like the creaking hinges of her door, which had not seen a coat of grease for days, her lips, were dry and cracked, like the cragged walls of her house.