WHATEVER, POLICE OFFICER

Fifty Eight.

BORDEAUX, FRANCE.

A lone figure wander to an apartment building and stood at the reception contemplating whether he's making the best decision or not. Many things has happened the last few months and he's been restless the whole time, nothing makes sense and the good food he's always liked in France doesn't make sense anymore. He's been guilty the whole time, his life moving around without any main purpose. Choked up business contracts, reviews, meetings and a lot more business dinners he couldn't attend. His energy is getting drained day by day as more guilt weigh him down.

Musa Babagana nodded at the receptionist, a French nice girl that's always sitting there waiting idly for commands. Colette had known him for many years now as he frequently visits one of their tenants, the one occupying the penthouse up there. She's always liked the man for his generosity and easy smiles. Although the person he meets up there is total opposite of him, they tend to share a great amount of time talking whenever he comes or even go out like couple. No one ever asked what the great businessman and fashion designer are up to, they could only watch and gossip.

"Is she up there?" The easy smile is intact on his face, his aging dark skin coming together in places -edges of his eyes, mouth and nose. How time flies!

Colette typed something quickly before looking up at him with a smile brighter than his, showing her whole cream teeth at him. She is a young woman in her early thirties having worked in the apartment complex for almost a decade already. She wasn't qualified when she started the job as a janitor but then ranked upwards when she brought a good curriculum vitae. Now she is amongst the most high paid workers there which is why she is attached to her job a lot. She is still single because of that same reason, she married her job.

"She is up there, Sir. She hasn't left the building in a week and I'm afraid something might be wrong with her. Do check out for us, Sir. She wants no disturbance from the servants." Colette quaked suddenly worried about the woman upstairs whether in good health or not, no one knows.

Worried lines dented themselves on her forehead as she recalled the last time the woman stumbled inside all haggard a tired. It's actually long overdue because she always is ready to work and work for the whole week without tiring and sometimes won't come back and spend the whole night at the office. She's already very successful in her career and amongst the top ten fashion designers in France, what more could she ask for? She could stay indoors and rest for a whole month and it won't make a dent on her, but she refused. She wants to wallow herself between pencils and so many clothing time and time again.

Although Colette had noticed something about her, seems like a past is lurking behind her businesslike facade. There is something about them that she doesn't understand. The two of them always look to be in pain even while they are smiling at one another, as if something is eating them up. They are clearly both foreigners even though the woman hardly looks like she is from Nigeria, she really is. Whatever it is they are doing in France, they are trying to escape from something that has to do with their pasts-

Musa Babagana's outstretched hand startled her out of her reverie and she hastily removed a keycard from her table and handed it to him. Her boss asked her to give him whenever he required it which was often before it became less frequent. Both of them tend to be too busy traveling around the globe and getting their career in a more stabler position to have time for themselves. Not that they don't meet in other countries, France is the main place the trysts takes place since she worked and lives there which leaves Musa Babagana flying from one place to another. He is everywhere.