This is a collection of some short stories I have written over the years. I hope that each one gives you the quick respite that only short stories can.
He had just finished praying and felt the need to check on her this evening but not before fighting the urge not to. He couldn't help that he cared and wanted to know if she was okay. The past few weeks had been draining for him. Meeting deadlines at work and preparing for tests at the university where he was a part-time student had proved difficult. Today was one of the days he got lucky enough to leave work early without any 'take-homes'. Although it was very refreshing to have ample time for himself, he was clueless as to what to do with all the free time.
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"Sleep. Lots of it," he thought to himself and concluded.
Even after sending the message, he could not help but wonder why he even bothered. She was annoying, stubborn, and rude. He hated that he was so concerned about someone who was mostly mean to him; for no reason at all. He had tried severally to ask her – indirectly and directly – why she was so cruel with hopes that the new reply would be helpful.
"Do you hate me?"
"No. Requires too much energy."
"I find that very hard to believe."
"See, nobody has the time to hate you abeg."
"Nobody has time? I am not important yeah?"
"Whatever."
That was when he tried being direct. He had regretted it and promised himself never to try chatting her up again. A promise he knew he could not keep but made anyway to calm himself at the time.
She represented everything that would normally make him hate a person. The reason he was very confused as to why fate made him come across a girl he would normally refer to as 'the burnt toast that somehow made its way to the dining table and no one seemed to want. This was clearly an unusual case. He was in love with her... a fact he always tried to pretend to be unaware of while drowning in the pool of denial he created for himself, only for the truth to continually throw him a life jacket.
She was bad for him and he knew it.
Like sugar is to a diabetic, like excess protein is to a man with faulty kidneys, like the rays of the sun is to a man looking at it directly without shades on; so she was to him. He loved and hated her at the same time. They never spent quality time together and were nowhere near being close so he always wondered what it was that nurtured this love. Sometimes, he felt she was that way because someone had broken her. Maybe that was something else he thought to make himself feel better.
Well, she was not all bad.
She was very beautiful and he especially liked her natural afro and the grey patch just above her temple. He thought of her hair like a halo in disguise. He liked to daydream about her hair being all white until the world bent her; making it turn black but being merciful enough to leave the little grey patch just above her temple as evidence of an angel that once was. Despite her very nasty attitude, she seemed grounded with a great sense of humor that was evident on the very rare occasions when she was nice and chatty. Where others saw a snobbish, proud, and mysterious sadist who always walked around in her signature brown hoodie, grey pants, and black sneakers with large headphones on, talking to virtually no one and seen with no one, he saw someone who liked to keep to herself. He found that, as well as her writing very attractive and offered her compliments that she always ended up throwing back at his face.
"Yeah."
She finally replied. He didn't know what to type next. He only wanted to see if she was doing okay and he reckoned that replying meant she was. He didn't want to go on with a conversation that would most likely leave him downcast. He made a decision then and there to focus on his love for sculpting and forget about this girl for now. He went to bed wondering how long his resolution would last.
