MAGICAL MONDAYS WITH KREATE
dog rushed to the scene, panting. She wore a white pair of pants and a red blouse. She had a wide mouth, short nose, big eyes, and a brown round face that matched the yellow and black braids on her head.
Neither noticed the presence of the lady. With his white cap, polo shirt, and shorts and the white racket bag that lay beside him, the stranger looked like he was heading for a game of lawn tennis. His skin color was the same as the lady’s; his arms, legs and curved torso were slim and athletic. She seemed to decide not to break the man-dog romance. She stood there watching until the Collie sensed her presence, yelped, and rolled over to its paws.
we met. She is a joyful nutter. ’
to you,’ she said and looked lovingly at the dog for a brief moment. ‘She’s so adorable. If only she were mine.’
and rang –
marketing executives were doing a follow-up on prospective clients I had been developing.
no signs of her trusted driver around. As it appeared, Akin was busy all day and could only send me a mail saying he had news for me, but we wouldn’t be able to discuss it during the thirty minutes break as he wouldn’t be having any.He suggested we had dinner together after closing hours, and I agreed. Something had to be up because dinner was unusual since he got married.
only eighteen minutes left. I exhaled; shut my eyes and let my head drop onto the desk.
of black shoes, black trousers, and a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves was waiting by the elevator. His jacket, held in place by his left hand, casually hung on his right shoulder, while the other hand was lodged in his pocket. He appeared to be lost in thought, and didn’t take notice of me until I was a few paces away. He smiled, pressed the elevator button, his sad pupils flickering with imperceptible anger. We hugged for a silent, brief moment.
‘Ye-yesterday, I wasn’t feeling too good so I obtained permission from my departmental head to leave early. When I got home I found my wife in our matrimonial bed with another man, having s-’ He trailed off, a tear sliding down his eyes.
I suspected more news was on its way so I waited.
conscience would have started pleading, but no. Not my wife! She said I was responsible. That I never spent enough time with her and spent too much time with you. The audacity! I am sorry to say this but I landed a good slap on that uncultured mouth of hers.’ He hesitated, eyes blazing and nose snorting like an indignant horse. I had never seen him that infuriated. I must say I didn’t think pleasant, humorous Akin had it in him to slap a woman.
‘Where is she now?’
Kreate is a budding Nigerian writer with a flair for fiction. Writing for him began sometime in secondary school where he dabbled in poetry and plays. He has authored two self-published short novels.
He is a banker and lives in Surulere. Read more interesting pieces at KREATEATALE