Swirl

15. Reunion.

(Two years later; circa 1971.)

Achim was seated comfortably behind his desk, organizing notes for his next meeting with a new client whom he hadn't met before. Despite having comprehensive details about her case down to a tee, she wasn't currently living in Johannesburg. Hers was a case that had been referred to his services by a sister firm due to its nature.

Knowing he was passionate about cases involving native South Africans, the sister firm saw it fit that he be the one to take over. They couriered her case files as soon as they could.

Achim looked at the clock above the door to his chamber and noted the time and it read 8:56 AM. She was due in at 9. He glanced down and flipped through the case file once more:

Sexual assault in the work place on the count of Ms. Mosa Dube, alleged to have taken place on the 12th of April 1971.

Client purports to have...

He cringed, unable to reread the horrors that the young miss suffered through. He was a respectful man himself and couldn't understand how or why men would disrespect women so blatantly. Perhaps a side effect of having been raised by a woman or indeed a sign of morality itself, he understood that women were emotional and creative beings with great power and potential.

Where a normal man would see a semen dump, he saw a life bringer. To be a woman is to be able to bring forth the gift of life.

A timid knock on the door demanded his attention.

"Come in," he beckoned in a voice that oozed both reverence and warmth.

In she stepped, with her curly-headed glory, although she kept her eyes to the ground. She was humming a song as she entered as though she were trying to calm her nerves. Her chest rose and fell unsteadily. When she was in the room far enough, she turned to close the door and then turned back before she looked up.

Being finely versed in both verbal language and body language, Achim noticed it all.

The air escaped his lungs. She was beautiful, but he couldn't help but feel as though he recognized her. He stared for a beat or two, until he noticed her fidget beneath his stare.

"A-Am I in the wrong room? I'm sorry for interrupting if I am, b-but I was directed to this room by your receptionist."

A bumbling beauty.

A fit of coughs erupted from Achim's throat and he stood up immediately, adjusting his tie. "Ms. Dube?"

"Yebo," she whispered. She was nervous.

He extended his arm forward and invited her to take a seat before him, attempting to assuage an air of hospitality. "I assure you, you're in the right office."

She sat down as gracefully as she could, but he could tell that something was a little bit off about the way in which she did, - she seemed to be in pain. He shuddered when he thought of the reason behind it. Ever the gentleman though, he didn't want to make her uncomfortable by forthrightly staring.

Taking a seat himself, he tented his fingers and rested his chin atop them. "How may I be of service to you, Ms. Dube? What brings you to my office?"

One of her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at him, - studied him. He cleared his throat after shifting in his seat several times before she finally spoke. "I'm sorry for ogling you. Y-you just look very.. familiar."

He smiled sheepishly. "I thought the same of you, my dear. Have we met before?"

"I don't think so, or if we have, I don't seem to re-," pausing, she bit her lip before continuing. "Remember." She visibly flinched.