Diary of the Crazy Shaniqua Bello

Log Sixty-seven: CUTE

SIXTY-SEVEN
CUTE

Thursday,

4:50 am

Dear, Diary

I'm still finding it hard to believe how eventful my life has been for the past few days—it feels like a year, to be honest.

Elvis woke me up by 3:30 am to help him get hot water. It's the first time I've pushed my eyes open that early in a very long time.

"You're cute," he said while I itched one eye trying to regain my consciousness.

"Am I supposed to say, 'Thank you?" I heard myself respond almost immediately and it wasn't until he left the room did I realize that I'd use those words—I hope he just took them as words of a sleepy head sha.

"I need hot water," he had one foot in and out of my room and it made me realize that he hadn't knocked. "Oh, I did knock, but you were dead asleep until I stepped into the room—it's almost like you're supernatural numb to loud knocks but spiritually sensitive to human presence," he answered while reading my facial expression and I couldn't help shake the thought that he sounded too much like my father.

"It's..." I picked my phone up and frowned, "...3 in the morning, what are you doing awake?"

"I like to think that I'm an early riser—and isn't it too early to be having lengthy conversations? I just wanted to know how to get hot water around here for the chauffeur and myself."

I remember mouthing the words, "Hot water" in confusion. Was he seriously serious? When last did I bathe with hot water?

"I'll get it for you, sir," I itched my eyes again, but this time to indicate that he could leave.

"So cute," he chuckled before shutting the door behind him.

I rose from the bed and dragged my feet to the mirror that stood slanted on my makeshift dressing table and I didn't think I looked anything near cute, I looked scattered. Freaking Liar!

Shaniqua

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