Jojo surrendered to the ethereal strains of the song that flowed out of the Mp3 player she had brought along with her. With closed eyes, she commenced her dance, a reverent expression gracing her features.
As the hauntingly beautiful melody enveloped her, Jojo's movements began with a gentle sway, as if being cradled in the arms of an unseen presence. Her arms extended gracefully, echoing the profound lyrics that spoke of unparalleled care and devotion.
With the song's poignant verses, Jojo's dance unfolded like a sacred dialogue. Her body became a vessel, interpreting the soul-stirring lyrics into movements that conveyed a deep, spiritual connection. Subtle twirls and spins reflected the profound sense of being held and cherished.
The lyrics, "No one ever cared for me like Jesus," resonated with Jojo's own experiences, and she poured that sentiment into her dance. Each step echoed gratitude, a silent conversation with the divine. Her fingertips brushed the air delicately, as if reaching for an unseen hand that cradled her with unconditional love.
Emotion swept through her as the music swelled, and Jojo's movements mirrored the crescendo. There was a vulnerability in her dance, a raw honesty that spoke to the intimate relationship described in the song. Her body arched backward, a symbolic gesture of surrender to the profound care she felt.
The dance unfolded as a testament to faith and a personal connection with the divine. Jojo's thoughts were a silent prayer, and her movements, a sacred expression of gratitude and awe. As the final notes lingered, she stood still, the dance a beautiful offering to the one who cared for her like no other.
******
The morning air buzzed with activity as Martha took charge of setting the table for an outdoor breakfast.
"Come on, guys, keep up!" Martha ordered, clapping her hands.
"Why didn't anyone tell me this was happening after my bath?" Larry grumbled, hands on his waist.
"Obedience before complaints, Larry," Paul retorted with a bored expression. Larry scoffed but adjusted himself as they all worked together to lift the long oval table to a corner.
The entire house was alive and rowdy; indoor dining wasn't an option as the elders we're in use if it so they had to eat outside.
"Is this how it's going to be till dusk?" Lawrence inquired as they prepared to pick chairs.
"Sure," Paul replied, casually placing his arm on Lawrence's shoulder.
"Ladies, bring the food," Martha directed.
Jessica and Florence swung into action, responding to Martha's urgent calls.
After 30 minutes, everything was set, and they began to take their seats. Kore jogged in, clad in a stylish ensemble of brown Blouse and black three-quarter jeans with matching sneakers.
"Good morning, everyone. I'm sorry I'm late," Kore greeted, pulling a seat for herself.
"Talk about some stylish lateness," Florence muttered and scoffed.
Silence hung for a moment until Martha's sudden question broke it.
"Why?"
"I'm just saying. She didn't even do anything as regards preparing breakfast," Florence finished before returning to her food.
Martha stared blankly for a moment, about to say something, when Kore intervened.
"Sis, it's okay. I'll do the dishes after."
"Good girl," Martha said playfully.
"So, can we start? I'm famished," Larry declared.
"Yes, we can after we pray."
"Yeah, whatever."
After the communal prayer, the symphony of utensils clashing against plates heralded the commencement of the meal. A few minutes into the culinary affair, Martha with curiosity etched on his face, broke the rhythm.
"Kore, where's Jojo?"
"I... haven't seen her," Kore replied, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.
"Yeah, I noticed she wasn't at devotion this morning either," Paul chimed in.
"That's odd," Martha mumbled, her brow furrowing in concern.
"She's usually everywhere. She'll come around," David reassured, his gaze scanning the surroundings.
"Kk," Martha shrugged, and a heavy silence settled back amidst the persistent background rowdiness.
A distinctive scraping sound disrupted the quiet as all eyes turned toward Jojo, gracefully taking her seat beside Kore, a subtle smile gracing her lips.
"Good morning to you too, miss. I see you came just in time for breakfast."
A grin adorned Jojo's face. "Yeah, I see I'm quite early. Apologies," she finished with a rather sardonic laughter, skillfully serving herself.
"So," she began strolling around the table toward her seat, "I see you all enjoyed my special entrance. Everyone was so engrossed in their food they didn't notice me until I pulled the chair. She continued, "I should do that more often," she finished and took her seat.
The atmosphere carried an infectious energy, albeit deviating from Jojo's usual cheerfulness. An underlying unease emanated from her, and if anyone sensed it, no one vocalized their observations, opting to let sleeping dogs lie.
Kore, momentarily pausing her meal, waited for Jojo to conclude her prayer.
"What?" Jojo asked, catching Kore's intent stare.
Kore shook her head. "Nothing," and seamlessly resumed her eating, the unspoken tension lingering in the air.
YOU ARE READING
A CAST OF PAIN (Closed For Editing)
General Fiction25 years go down the drain when series of dreams, supposedly forgotten parts of her life, memories spring up. They're painful but by implication, consequential. What does she do with the memories that seem to cause so much pain . Jojo, a happy go...
