First Paragraph of Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
Things started to fall apart at home when my brother, Jaja, did not go to communion and Papa flung his heavy missal across the room and broke the figurines on the étagère. We had just returned from church. Mama placed the fresh palm fronds, which were wet with holy water, on the dining table, and then went upstairs to change.