“Breathe” – he said, his hand firmly placed on my back, patting me gently. Each stroke sending bursts of comfort up my spine. My tears reduced to a sob;
Time, you see, is a treacherous bitch. She sleeps in on bad days and hustles you on days when you have things to do, worlds to conquer and hearts to charm. I resume my sobbing, what is fake tears without the wailing, The clock dings, time is growling now, urging night to fall and disperse this private meeting.
I heaved and shuddered my frame, making my sure he feels my body tremble.
“it’s OK” – I heard him say “I will ask Ayo to go and open the store for you tomorrow, don’t worry, nothing will happen to your child” – he said hurriedly. I knelt down immediately, making sure my feet scrapes the floor for an added flair… My thank you’s louder than the Muslim call to prayer.
He packed his bag and informed me that he was closing for the day, I bade him farewell and walked down the stairs drying my face lest I draw attention to myself.
I got in my car and I yelled “IDIOT, I am not paying any fucking tax, this is how I will keep my shop open and free from tax issues with the government, lying about the five children I’m yet to have and the husband who ran away that I never married”
I adjusted the makeup on my face, remembering how my friends would always tell me “Ada, you have a PENCHANT for acting on cue” and a laugh erupted from my lips.
I drove out of the parking lot, heading to meet my new sugar baby.
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