Will I Never Just be Enough

 

He leaned in to kiss her gently and said, “Darling you’re so beautiful. You’re so special. If only we weren’t so different.”

He gripped her in his fierce embrace and emerged from his delirious pleasure whispering, “You’re too good for me love.”

He sat next to her, held her hand in his, drank in her soul and told her, “you drive me mad sweetheart. But I’m sorry I want someone more like me”

They came and went. Each one so different. Each one seeing a different part of her. Each one falling just a little bit in love with her. With her pure aura. With her gentle heart. With her wild spirit. Each one drowned in her sea of magic. Each one took her with them.

But then they all swam ashore and left her suffocating under her ocean of mad passion and desire. Each fled when they realized that slowly they were sinking into the depths of her love. Each fled because they were afraid that if they let themselves drift deeper, they would forget to come up to breathe. Each of them fled because they couldn’t allow themselves to be prisoners in her cage.

And so they left her, a mermaid with a crown, a queen in her realm, to slowly turn into a monster. They left her with her mad grief, to save herself from the waves she created.

But, poor girl, she has no idea how to swim. She took off her crown to make herself lighter, but the weight of her pain bore her down. She took off her shells and gleaming pearls, but that only made her soul darker. She tried to scream out for help but her voice was caught in the raging tide.

So alone and tired, she lay among rocks and waited for death. Here she lies, her heart beating ever slower. Here she lies, her light slowly going out. Here she lies, he aura flickering off. And in her heart the melody replays…” I was too good for the bad boy. I was too wicked for the church guy. I was too good for the bad boy… I was too wicked for the good guy… I was too good… I was too wicked…”

“Will I never just be enough?”

Via Clover.

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What if we forget it all?

Wearing my slippers at the balcony and staring into the horizon…I wonder whether it’s true that everyone is in control of their destiny. I sip on vodka in the glass and gulp slowly…feeling it slowly stream down my throat.

What if we will never see each other again?

What if we forget to meet at Chicken Inn or KFC or our favorite cafe in the heart of the street?

If we forget the future we can still make it up to ourselves. We can get creative and build it with our hands, you know, like use clay, or carve a statue out of wood like we used to do in Art and Craft.

But what if we forget the past? What if our memories become ashes and the next time we see each other we don’t feel anything at all?

I do not want to feel nothing for you. I can’t even imagine you as a stranger. I can’t imagine walking by you indifferently; not holding hands as we’re used to.

I do not want to think that we will eventually ignore each other because there’s nothing worst than ignorance. What if all those precious memories we created go down like a house consumed by fire?

What will remain of us is just ash and melancholy. I do not want our love to become apathy. We were us. We were special, so alive together.

I’d become lifeless without you.

Okay I know what you’re thinking and yes, I have three hundred and fifty fears, but oblivion is my deepest one. Nothing like forgetting us attacks my lungs so unforgivingly.

I do not want to forget our moments of escape in paradise.

I do not want to forget all the pictures we took together. I delete some from my gallery but they keep on regenerating, why?

We had a reason to be so perfect at such an inconvenient time. And I do not want to let it go as I envisaged the best coming out of it. I am not ready to disregard my intensity of our short, vivid instants.

I am afraid to forget your sweet mellow voice and that you will forget mine.

I am afraid to forget the fervor I saw in your eyes when we met.

I am afraid to forget your sense of humor and hearty laughters.

I am afraid to forget our love.

I am afraid to forget the pace of our love, your smooth hands caressing me, goofy faces, wagging your tongue at me at a distant when we in public, and the quick glances we used to exchange only after a few hours after not seeing each other.

I am afraid to forget the late night and early morning conversations over the phone.

I am afraid to forget the cosy and comforting feeling of sleeping and waking up with your warm tender body wrapped in mine.

I am afraid to forget how intimate we can get.

I am afraid to forget that I said I’d be loyal and only belong to you.

I am afraid to forget all the songs we played and listened together and the fights of who was playing the next one.

I am afraid to forget all our first times.

I am afraid of how dolorous our goodbye has been.

I am afraid to forget how liquor tasted so better when we had it together.

I am afraid to lose myself as I lose memories.

I do not want to forget how the intensity of our love made me feel alive again.

I want to remember. I want to be able to recall those instances that made me fall in love even when we were gone.

Even when the pain is too much to bear, I want to feel you one more time.

But again, maybe I’m lost in my world alone, dreaming.

Tha Dreamchaser.

Via Fidash

Bound

I give the most gentle of knocks that I can master, the adrenaline is pumping in my veins I am terrified I know I have crossed a line this time.

‘I don’t have to do this anymore, I am stronger than this,’ I keep chanting.

I don’t get a response as I knew I would not so with the last shred of balls that I have I open the heavy mahogany door and immediately the smell, the glorious smell of his presence hits me. I walk in, with a slight sway in the hip, just the way I know he likes it. He does not acknowledge me and I realise I may be in even deeper shit than I thought.

‘Sit down and be quiet.’

I take the furthest seat and fold my legs then straighten my back because who the hell does he think he is, today is the day I walk away, I am done, I will am leaving the chains. I have to keep chanting to myself I have to keep telling myself that I am bigger than him, I own him, he’s nothing without me.

‘I understand, I will be careful to consider this in future’

He hangs up looks at me then right past me then back to the telephone picks it up. It barely rings before it connects he listens for a minute and says

‘You know what to do.’

He stands to his full height back to me and gently picks up the scotch fills a glass, puts in some ice cubes and strides towards me. My breath catches at the sheer masculinity that is this man and wonder how I got myself here.

‘Why?’

I know what he’s asking but I do not know what to say. He is looking at me like he expects a response and I stare, partly because I am awed by him and partly because I am about to take him down.

He sees my cocky face and realises I am not as terrified as he thinks I am, he comes closer and I give him a full blown smile,

‘Goddamnit Ava, what did you do, bloody heavens you told the press didn’t you, you have wanted to fuck this up right from the onset,’

I like the way he speaks.

‘Get out,’

Well, this is what I wanted isn’t it, to get rid of this, to let the burden go. I know I will not get any sleep tonight. I get up surprised that my legs work and move past him headed for the door then I realise belatedly that there is no letting this man go, I was made for this, I am forever going to be bound and as this dawns on me, I change my destination and go to the west side of the office and get down on my knees bow my head and arch my back. I know my place and it isn’t away from him.

‘Good girl.’

Most times I ask myself how I got here, how I got to be so powerful, the sheer respect that I get from the populace is impressive. I guess I was always just ambitious. While some might say it looks ugly on me, I did not get this far looking pretty. That may be the reason why I may never get married, or get kids, just wasn’t meant for me. I have no regrets thus far, all is going perfectly well.

I  notice that my mind wanders too much, he has left me here for hours in the past running his empire, being the boss that he is, while I waited my chance in patience. I thought most of my father that died while I was six, God rest his soul. Even more often was my mother, the most selfless being to ever exist in my world, took many of my beatings for me, died a soldier if you ask me. I stayed with Luca for the better part of my childhood, took the beatings of course after mama died, my grace period did end, but I applaud Luca he did his best for me, see, I turned out just fine.

When I was seventeen I moved to the big city that Luca had worked so long in, with his entire savings with me, I had earned it, I built myself up, brick by brick lets not forget Lucas’ unwilling small investment in me, [I may or may not have borrowed the money the night before I ran away, depends on who’s asking.] I built a comfortable life and the best part was never getting to tend to an abusive alcoholic.  I had a good life I was content but you never really know what you’re missing till you try that unknown. when I found my complexity, I was at first astounded then as is everything in my life, i embraced him, he grew on me, just like a cancer, those terminal ones that you can never get rid of, it ends with death. I hated to think of what may have caused my little disability but heck out of sight, out of mind.

I can hear a buzzing, I know the rhythm of that buzz and immediately all thoughts vanish and I remember that I am in the four hundred square feet expanse of the office I have come to know so well. He has redecorated here and there but its the same old thing that I may or may not have cum in repeatedly. My heart beat accelerates as I watch him walk towards my phone and switch it off then turn towards me an angry flare striking his face. He lifts his hand to his tie and loosens it not completly removing then as an after thought takes it off and strides towards me, takes my hands and binds my wrrists behind me. He’s being lenient, I am grateful. I do not move, shallow breaths and hooded eyes.

‘I asked you, I asked you so many times, you rejected me, Ava I want you to remember that you left me,

YOU BROKE MY HEART!

You have no right to come back and ruin my life with her now, is the arrangement not working? I have done my best Ava I have stayed away, I have let you build your life, I have watched  you take credit for me, I have paid them all off, you did not want a life with me, bad for business, wasn’t I? Now why am I getting calls from press about an affair?’

I can feel my tears coming up, I can feel the emptiness creeping up, my past faults that I was comfortable with tearing me apart. I should not have continues seeing him, I should have taken the high road, should have ended things early eough, the web had grown too big and too complicated now. This should have been the last time, I was coming to give farewell. To let him go, yet here I am again. I have not said a word since I came. I have submitted already to a complexity that is not mine.

I need to speak, I need to leave, I need to do something, anything. I can feel the anger, I know he doesnt want to deal with my shit anymore, I  should have never leaked to the press, wrong move, wrong time, wrong man.

‘I…I….I CANT’

And just like that, for the first time in fifteen years  I cry, I can feel my heart break, tired of all the work its been doing putting up with the shit. My hands are still restrained, it is getting to my skin, it hurts I try to focuss on that and I can’t, I begin to sob and for the first time lift my eyes up to meet his. I watch the  blood drain from hes face, he looks ashy then his hands begin to shake, I have never put him so off balance. This was not the plan, so not the plan.

The shoes come off second to the tie and he kneels. This works me up even more than all the rest, he never humbles himself for me, he doesn’t come down to my level, he doesnt sink down to me, he tells me how I can get up to him, when I am ready. My tears seem not to be controlable. Well this is embarrasing. He holds my waist pulls me closer head to shoulder my sobbing body accepts this, he unwraps the tie, freeing my hands and I beggin to protest I know what I need, and it is to capitulate, to yield and not to move, to be confined within the rules, to obey, to be submissive. It is all I know the only life I have lived with them all, it’s my medicine.

He is saying no, he is freeing me, he is massaging my writs where they were tied up and looking at me, tender eyes, I cant remember tender eyes, I cannot deal with tender eyes. He then proceeds to rip my  heart right out, wraps my body into his and rocks me back and forth as if to sing

rockabye baby don’t you cry,

‘Hush there Cherie, it’s not like that this time, I got you baby, now let the demon out.’

Via Adudahera

Delusion

I think it is morning, I hope it isn’t but I know for a fact that it must be. Something must have woken me up, it does not take me long to find it. I smile that one smile that I reserve for him, he doesn’t return it. I guess we are not in a smiling mood. The Nyaluo in me will not agree to this, I keep smiling and he catches the drift and gives mama some teeth. I do my sarcastic giggle because I can and when I hear myself I think, it sounds good.

Among the most famous words I have heard given to me by men in my adult life are to name a few,

“Luos don’t come this pretty nowadays jaber, are you a hybrid?”,

“Those eyes tear me down jowa, I’m coming to pay dowry this weekend because there is no way am letting you go”….

One thing or another with an obvious goal that I might shame myself for falling for one too many times in the distant past. Enough about this stories, the point was that this man often told me how beautiful he thought I was, in the beginning, it puzzled me, because how? then came the understanding and I actually believed him because like I mentioned above, I like to shame myself more often than not.

This, therefore, cancels out my good giggle for, and I want to assure you, my voice is nothing to reckon with. Back to important things, i get up from my bed it’s roughly nine thirty am, no this is not the time that i woke up, i woke up roughly at six am, i get to the shower, toy about with it till i get the right temperature then my body is systematically cleaned. I don’t hate this shower i come to notice, i might get used to this…

Am feeling particularly pretty today, I put my nude lipstick on, make an attempt to hold up my weave, that I wish I didn’t put in the first place but a few people have thought it looks good, good, bad, semantics really if you ask me. The nude lipstick is supposed to make my lips pop but by the time I walk past the light-skin receptionist i instantly wish i wore the dark purple that my good friend, let me call her Barbie thinks looks good on us dark skin girls.

This girl maybe 25 or 26, i may be tempted to say 30 or 40 but i will not get personal with her, assumes my very presence. Now i was not in the “let it pass mood” because, as i mentioned earlier, i was feeling pretty today. She says to  me, and i know she was talking to me because there was no-one else in the lobby she could have been referring to but me, “that comes with breakfast,” i thought so but i stood all the same and waited for my him, lets name him Thindo to come and respond.

We did not have her silly breakfast, i say with pride, despite the smile she plastered on her face when Thindo reached me and said,

“No, breakfast wont be necessary,”

I couldn’t hide my smile, it was going to be a good morning this one.

Now there is something about eating at home that appeals to me, it might be the fact that i don’t need to put both legs on the floor when i eat or the fact that no-one would care if i showed the color of my panties as i got comfortable on the floor  and bit a far too big piece of sausage off and it proceeded to burn my tongue where i would then attempt to dispel some air out by hissing in the least dignified manner you can think of, otherwise are you even eating sausage? wait what was i saying yawa, i talk too fucking much, ooh eating out. Yes, i dont like eating out, fighting with knives and forks and whatnot yet we all know mayai you tear with your hand and put in your mouth because the taste of mayai and oil on its own minus all that bread nonsense is what we live for, dont pretend you dont know what im saying…

I get into java Hurlingham and you already know what i see, people having business breakfasts, i think, they look pretty serious and it is a Wednesday morning, others just there because they can take breakfast in java, its their damned ass money by the way you have nothing to say, others are just not in love with the breakfast their maids make at home. I classify all these categories of people in one glance at the room, then tell Thindo, we are sitting there, i indicate with my finger at the far left corner. My Thindo follows me and behind him is a pretty, short and melanised waitress just like me. We sit as she calmly waits for us to organise our shit,then she gives us our menus and while she turns she gives me that smile, that knowing one, like damn girl.

I smile back, i know at that moment that i did well going with nude, she walks away and my stare lingers on her. She’s probably my height, she’s curvy but not voluptuous, she has her braids caught in a bun at the top of her head and at that instant i realize she’s most probably better looking than i am.

Quickly i turn my gaze to the menu she gave me and open it, it’s about to happen and i know it. I’m about to hand my stupid ass back at myself a nice good plate, i have been served. What was that smile about, maybe she knows i have lied to Mrs Ochieng Nyar Kanyada about my whereabouts, i must not look like i come from around i mean rich people don’t wear doll shoes and short dresses not these 500 bob ones at least. I knew this yesterday but why did i wear them? Why couldn’t i stick to my thick sole rubbers, they’d look better for sure. my hair, this hair ojoga ma daliedalieda i dont know about this weave business it looks awful and the waitress knows it has been on my head one week too long. Maybe it Thindo here, what if she also knows he’s too good for me, i mean Thindo clearly has no problem with handling a fork knife and spoon, if need be. I  still want to talk about sitting on the floor  and bite big pieces of sausage. Im barbaric and they all know it. I mean i should have stayed longer with dad after the divorce, maybe i’d enjoy java like this people, maybe i’d know how to sit properly, one leg over another the way my cousin Mizurl does.

I hear footsteps she’s coming back, I’ve taken too long i haven’t read anything in this goddamned menu, i look up at her and then at Thindo who must have realized i was in my head again and left me to it, he knows the kind of maniac i am, he cannot change this so he walks with me while i do it when Im ready, i come back. She has that smile on her face and i know for sure that she knows i know what it meant, she makes a small nod and starts writing, that’s when i realise Thindo just said,

“ill have a house coffee and the breakfast combo,”

Via Adudahera

“We Really Should Get You a Man”

He said I’m too nice I need a boyfriend. He said this with his lips on
my neck. He said this as his lips found mine and he drowned me in
passion and desire. He whispered this as I found myself so comfortable
in his hold, so content with his body pressed against mine. For a
second I thought I must have heard him wrong. For a second I thought
there is no way this man could be drinking in my soul while asking me
to find another. Later, when I lay in his arms, sweaty and breathing
deeply, I found myself wondering how messed up this is.

He kissed my forehead and held me close. He made me giggle and tickled
me- in all the spots he knows send me into playful fits. He let me
listen to his beating heart. And even quieted down into beautiful
silence just how he knows I like it sometimes. He let me play with his
neck and sit with my legs entwined around him. He listened to me
ramble on and on how I do when I’m giddy with hormones. He let me lie
on his shoulder in exhausted calm. And all this time I couldn’t
understand how he could be so blind.

He walked me home with my little palm in his. He kissed me as we
passed by a cackle of gossiping women by the market. He laughed when I
said I was high on ecstasy. He held my hand tighter when I asked him
to. But the fool still couldn’t see.

I took forever just to get on a bus… adorably moaning that I didn’t
wanna leave. So he stood there with me for what felt like hours. Just
talking. Laughing. Feeling each other. Finally when I couldn’t stay
any longer, he helped me get onto my ride home. As I hugged him and
gave it a gentle squeeze,  he kissed my cheek and said it again…
“Darling, you’re so incredibly sweet. We really should get you a man.”

Via Clover

Did We?

Did we ever make pancakes together..? Did we ever just sit at your balcony with coffee and fruit and waffles just for brunch..? Did the charming smell of cinnamon and butter ever fill the air as we milled around the kitchen making breakfast..? Did we ever talk… bond… connect as we felt the morning breeze in our faces..?
Did I ever just sit next to you, quietly reading, while you watched your movie..? Did I ever so often flick my eyes from my pages to your face so crunched up in concentration and smile secretly..? Did you press pause on your theater tings to just plant a wet kiss on my cheek, then on my nose, then on my forehead, and finally on my lips, knowing that with that, book and movie would lie forgotten..?
Did we ever play scrabble and monopoly and scream and shout like little kids..?
Did we ever take a walk in the evening, just so you could see the sunset reflected in my eyes..?
Did we ever lie on the grass watching the stars, trying to count them as they stretched across the sky..?
Did we indulge in ice cream and cake, pizza and fries, until our tummies bulged and we felt slightly ill..?
Did we ever just bask in each others glow…
Were we ever just friends..
Were we ever just in love… simply in love… blissfully in love..
Via Clover.

The Unbecoming – I Miss You.

There are times when I miss you terribly. Your familiar laugh. Your familiar voice. The feel of your arms.
There are times when I just want to talk to you. When I want to tell you all about my day. How my stomach hurt so bad from I don’t know what. How I have these plans to buy an apartment but I barely have any money. How I have laughed and laughed about my horrible weekend and how it made a great blog.
There are days when all I miss is company. That warm, cosy place where I felt like home. Not just any other person or friend. You. You right next to me on the pillow. You walking beside me by the roadside. You just teasing. Laughing. Playing.
So fool that I am, I looked for you. I heard your voice and it broke me. Instead of flaring up all the anger I felt against you, I just wanted to hold on. I just wanted you to keep talking. About anything. About any damn subject. I hoped that you would feel my desperation on the other end of the line. That you would just say, “baby I miss you terribly. I’m coming home.”
But of course you didn’t. And a second later… silence. The line is already dead. And now I’m holding onto the phone, begging myself not to call you back. Begging myself not to succumb to this weakness. Because you don’t care. You don’t care enough.
All I’m left with is this beautiful song in my head, that I can’t shake off. This melody that I can’t share with you like I used to.
“Darling just put your soft lips on my lips… we will just kiss like real people do. Darling just put your sweet lips on my lips… we will just kiss like real people do…”
A ballad that is so wonderful it has me twirling by myself with my eyes closed. Drifting back to the days when the melodies played for two young things just locked in each other’s arms, swaying silently. Blissfully. I smile because it’s like you’re here… for those few minutes, it’s like we’re back to the way it all was.
But as the last chords gently float in the air, I feel you slipping through my fingers. I open my eyes at last, and I am all alone.
And I don’t know whether to be at peace or in pieces.
Via Clover

Dear Future Husband

I wasn’t entirely sure why I want to write to you, but now as I start, I realize that it’s more of an apology than anything else.

When I was younger, I always believed that meeting you would be so soon, it would be so immediate; because I always thought that my life belonged to you and would be defined by you.

Of course, I fell in love with the first man that swept me off my feet. Fool that I am, I was so wrapped up in my fantasies and dreams that I couldn’t see everything that was wrong with it. I couldn’t see that this was something so twisted. And every time that it hurt, every time I cried, I told myself that all I needed to do was hold on tighter; fight harder- even if that meant that my knuckles bruised and my heart bled.

See, that’s the type of person that I am. I have never been afraid to love, and when I do, I just dive into it with all that I’ve got. I don’t know how to play games. I don’t know how to limit myself. I just give with an almost insane desire to just wrap one’s world in the light of mine.

This in itself, is so freeing. To submit to love and the fierce will, it exerts upon man. I read somewhere that few are ever strong enough to allow love to inhabit their souls like that. Few are ever strong enough to surrender control of their lives to this force.

Yet I don’t know if this makes me strong or weak. Because while I know what unconditional love looks like, or at least, just a bit of it, it is also this same thing that has caused me such agony. For love, I have felt pain as real and thick as a person, living and breathing in the inside of me. For love, I have been broken, consistently, repeatedly… but I never seem to learn.

But as I sit here, fighting to not be bitter, I realize that with every broken bone, my heart turned a bit darker. With every stab, the light in me went dimmer. With every cold rejection, the little girl in me dies.

I always wanted that the woman you meet is pure, inside and out. I ever imagined that the moment I met you, I would just know. You would only do. And from that moment on, everything would be perfect. Not because we are perfect, no, for how can there ever be an ideal kind of person. But because we would both be wrapped in a perfect sort of magic that would echo the song in our joined souls. That we would walk, no longer two, but 1 being. (Maybe I watched too many movies.)

Now I fear that if you ever find me, it would be this being, half alive, desperately holding onto grace but falling ever deeper into the abyss. Now I fear that if I ever find you, you won’t be the man I always prayed for and dreamed about- and I have no idea if that will be acceptable to me. Now I fear that perhaps you don’t even exist, for how could you be, but the Universe let the other side of you weep and bleed..?

Perhaps my most significant apology is that slowly I feel myself turning into what this world has made me. A skeptic. A cold soul. A hopeless spirit. My biggest apology is that if you show up, I may be sucked in too deep into the darkness, that I may not even recognize you at all. I don’t know if that’s the worst tragedy really. Oh well, such is life I suppose.

Via Clover

Gone

 

He knew her routine by heart. She’ll hit the snooze button five times while running her fingers on his back, shoulders and on his arms, drawing images that only she could see. She would plant tiny kisses on his neck then roll on top of him while getting out of the bed. This always made him grunt pretending that she is heavy yet she was half of what he weighed. She would chuckle. A minute later he would hear the hot water kettle come to life, her brushing her teeth, water pouring from the pot to a cup while stirring with ready to drink coffee.

There would be silence for about 7 minutes, and he knew she was on her phone checking out her social media pages. This would entail with giggles and chuckles, sometimes swearing and he knew whatever it was, he would find it on his phone, for she always forwarded them to him. Sometimes she got lost in the virtual world that’s why she had set a timer on how much time she would spend on her phone.

Ting! The timer would go off, and she will run to the bathroom, take a shower, apologize to him as she floods the bedroom by switching on the lights so that she can get dressed. He could hear her moisturizing herself, mumble as she searched for what to wear. Once dressed she’ll close the lights and head to the kitchen where the aroma of food would fill the whole house. Breakfast would be cooked, kitchen cleaned and then she would leave for work. She always stated that breakfast is the most important meal that she never has. She would reach the door and remember she hadn’t bidden him goodbye, rush back, gave him a kiss and run.

This was her, every morning on the weekday, for the last 8 months since they moved in together. But not today, something was not right. She woke up before the alarm went off. She didn’t touch him. No kettle was lit. The only sound he heard was water cascading through her body. She didn’t open the bedroom lights. Everything was being done in hush-hush and hurry. No breakfast was made. He couldn’t take it anymore and sat on the bed and asked her if everything was OK.

“Yes, why?”

“Because you’re acting….different”

“Am I? Maybe it’s because am a little stressed. Don’t worry baby. I am OK.”

“Are you sure? Am here you know.”

“I know Hun. Give me a kiss and go back to sleep. It’s too early for you.”

As she leaned forward for a kiss, he pulled her on his lap. He could feel she was tense as he hugged her. She quickly got off his grip and walked out. He never felt anything like this. His heart was palpitating so hard on his chest, a thousand questions crossed hard on his mind, none of them with answers. He checked his phone to see if maybe she left him something in there, nothing. No messages, no memes, no gifs, no links to articles she always sent him. A hard knot twisted on his tummy and he was sure something wasn’t right.

“Hey, Hun. Is everything OK? with you? with us?” He texted her.

He expected a text back because she was a fast at replying his messages. Five minutes passed, each minute to him felt like a century. No reply back. “Fuck It, let me call her” he murmured to himself as he dialed her number.

“Mteja was nambari uliopiga, hapatikani kwa sasa. Sorry, the no..”

He didn’t let the automated message for an out of reach person to end. He jolted, ran to the bathroom, took a quick shower, dressed and ran out of the house, heading to her place of work. He kept calling her over and over, but she was not available. He knew her phone was fully charged for she always hordes the charger next to the bed. He tried to calm himself down, but it was like adding gasoline to the fire. He cursed like a sailor at the slow traffic, drove like a maniac whenever the truck moved. By the time he reached her office, he was in a foul mood, sweat shining on his forehead and hands shaking. He didn’t greet the doorman, took two stairs at a time, all the way up to the fifth floor, where her office was, instead of using the elevator.

“Hi, Cindy. Where is Layla?”

Cindy was the receptionist that he helped pick when Layla started the company.

“Good-morning sir. She hasn’t been to the office for two weeks. We thought you two had gone for a vacation together!”

His heart stopped for a second. He felt dizzy. Everything was twirling around him.

“Sir, are you OK? Come have a seat. I’ll get you some water. you don’t look well” Cindy said while helping him to sit on her chair.

She quickly ran to get water as she passed by Florence’s office. She popped her head on her door and said,

“Quick, Lewis is here, and he doesn’t look too good.”

Florence was Layla partner. They started this business together after years of friendship. Puzzled, she quickly followed Cindy. She found him in a state of daze, staring at nothingness.

“Lewis, are you OK? Lewis….hey” she snapped her fingers on his face trying to pull him back from the realm he had sunk in.

“Lewis…talk to me.”

He snapped back to reality, and when he saw Florence, he felt some sort of relief. Flo was Layla’s best friend, so he knew he would get answers.

“Where is Layla? What does Cindy mean she hasn’t been here for the past two weeks? What is going on?” he pressed.

“But I thought you went with her. She took a month off from Work. Last time I spoke to her, which was yesterday, she said that you two were planning to go for a vacation. What’s going on? Am confused”

“A month off work? But she has been coming to work daily! ” he said with exasperation Florence took her phone and dialed Layla.

“Don’t bother, she is mteja.”

“I don’t know what to say, Lewis. Am as confused as you are.”

He got his phone out and started texting her on her Twitter page but to his shock, He couldn’t find her account. He tried Instagram and Facebook, but her social media accounts were no longer available.

“What the actual fuck is going on!” He shouted as he showed Florence and Cindy what he had discovered.

Both ladies mouth were agape by the revelations. Layla was a well known social media persona and all over sudden, none of her pages were available on any social media platforms. He immediately called Layla’s brother and as he had presumed, he didn’t know where she was nor anyone in Her family. As he hung up the call, he consciously and devastatingly realized, Layla is gone and gone for good.

Via Nay Nay