TURMOIL

After Demola left remorseful, I came back weeping. I felt depressed. I went to the room, I mean my bedroom throwing clothes, scattering my shoes, picking my pillow, throwing on the wall, I kept on throwing tantrums, weeping profusely. No one to talk to presently because I didn’t feel like bumping into my neighbours to discuss a thing. She needed her privacy too. I felt like doing something crazy. I couldn’t take it anymore. I picked my phone and dialed, it was Paul. I knew I was wrong, so I cut the call.

Thinking it was a missed call I knew he felt I was genuinely calling not knowing I had changed my mind in repentance.  I picked his call. “Hey boy,” I said jokingly trying to hide my pain. “It seems you need me, something tugging at your heart, and need to get it off your chest. Behold your gist mate. I’m all your tonight, let’s go for a ride. I’ll come to pick you.” Thirty minutes after he came in with a gladdene