" dreamt that I was our grandmother,” I tell him. “I looked in a mirror and she was there, just like the pictures, and she spoke to me in Igbo.” “What did she say?” “Hold my life for me.” I wait for his laugh, but it never comes. “Do you believe in reincarnation?” I ask him. “I’m not sure my belief matters,” he says. “If it is, it is, whether I believe it or not.” “You know what I’m asking.” My cousin gives me a small smile and twists some of my hair in his fingers. “They talk about you and her in the village, did you know?” I have never heard this before. I sit halfway up, leaning against his body. "

― Akwaeke Emezi , The Death of Vivek Oji