he told her to write

Him a story. She knew not her future nor his past and so chose to write him a poem. But a poem knows not climaxes, and is limited to syntax and prose. And so she wrote him a story ... But only one he knew too well. There is something to be said about archiving one's own repertoire, the simple documentation of a day can create the most colorful of stories if one takes time to describe the characters met on a daily basis, to put emphasis on the nature of events that lead you to that bridge of suspense before the climax and final resolution (or not).
And so the story goes...

Once upon a time, there lived a man. He was born under the rule of Mugabe, to a country that knew poverty, laughter, enocomic tatters and political strife. If it had been another time, he never would have met her, for she was born in a far away land - with fire in her heart, and a passion for rebellion in her soul...

Tbc.