Zvinyorwa zvakabatanidzwa

It was a busy afternoon at the airport. Business travelers in designer suits. Influencers taking selfies. Families dragging expensive luggage. Then he walked in. An older man. Simple shirt. Faded trousers. And in his hand… an old brown suitcase. The leather was peeling. One corner was taped. Two young men nearby started whispering. “Bro, that suitcase belongs in a museum.” “Maybe security should check if it’s from 1985.” People stared. Some smirked. He heard them. But he said nothing.