Thorns and Berries

Chapter One

"They say, the sweetest of berries grow from the sharpest of thorns. But one thing people are blinded from seeing,...is that those thorns could be the berries themselves. You only need to look closer and open your heart to finding the sweetness in the thorns and not just from the thorns."

—Husna.

Before it all began...

Husna

I sat on a recliner chair swivelling side to side as I enjoyed the strawberry scent of the room freshener, deeply inhaling and exhaling the fragrance with eyes closed and head tipped back. I could swear I had not felt this gay and alive for ages. Casting an eye on the files on my table, I gave a small satisfactory smile. No more researches, no more reports, no more running helter skelter for news updates and interviews. Not for a whole week— all thanks to my cousin's upcoming wedding.

I opened my eyes slowly again and let my gaze linger and roam the desk which I shared with two other colleagues. Since the managing director gave an approval to my request for a week leave from work yesterday, this had been my umpteenth time of scrutinizing the desk and the entire large office occupied with the rest of my colleagues all on their desks, busied away with rustling papers, some sorts of important files and their computer systems. Since I got my leave, I had never been this happier in my entire working life— I had initially depressed myself with the self depreciating thought that the manager would bluntly turn down my request considering my poor performance since my employment into the media house.

At a younger phase of my life, I had little interest in writing articles, presentations or hosting interviews. I had never even gotten myself involved in literal clubs in school, but now, as a twist of fate, I had found myself in the media house as the host for a TV show to fulfil of my father's wish for me—he had always wanted me to study mass media and communication. However, since my employment here, even as time swished by, I had rarely had anything commendable to write home about.

And maybe..., just maybe my lack of success in my job was the major reason Mr Osaze had agreed on my leave of absence for a week. Maybe he felt I needed a break to reboot my brain before returning back to work. Maybe he felt taking a break from work would improve my intellectual curiosity and tricks necessarily unlimited to the mass media.