The call dropped and Frank sat-up on his bed. His mind was still restless from the events that occurred after work hours. The only image that stayed constant amidst his chaotic thoughts was Kaffi. Her beauty still occupied his very vivid imagination, her smile, her eyes, her voice, the way she exuded confidence even when she was being mischievous. He knew he wasn't supposed to be thinking of her this way, not after what just happened at her place, but he couldn't help it, his thoughts were conflicting right now and he needed to put them in check before he gets consumed by his lust. Rising from his bed, he walked to the mini-fridge in his bedroom, opened it and withdrew a cold drink to wash down the unwholesome thoughts that paraded his subconscious... it wasn't working. Still clutching the drink in his hand, he wandered towards the TV area and turned on the TV, the screen stared back with "NO SIGNAL"..."How rich," he said with a sigh, resolving to bear this torture and hoping it wouldn't last till morning. Taking a beastly gulp of the drink in his hand, he sauntered back to his bed, and as he sat, it occurred to him that there was one more thing he could do, one he should have done before resorting to the cold drink and the reminder that he needs to adjust his satellite antenna outside, quickly, he placed the bottle on his nightstand and got on his knees, lifting up his hands with his eyes closed, he started to pray. He was on his knees till the thought of Kaffi gradually petered out and when he got up, he realized he had been praying for over thirty minutes. Finally satisfied that the tide that rocked his sea of thoughts had quieted down, he climbed into his bed and slept off.
Tuesday morning came with new promises and new beginnings, at least that was how Frank decided he would see it. He left his house for the office with a smile on his face. He was determined to get the best out of his day and it was working pretty well for him. During his lunch break at the office restaurant, he took out his notebook; the one containing the names he was to follow up, he proceeded to call all the names on the list, except Kaffi's of course. Most of them were really grateful that he called while a few others rang out. Satisfied that he had done what he was supposed to do to let him off his choir directors leash, he put away the notebook and now focused his attention on the meal he ordered. The jollof-rice looked very well decorated, the chef took the time to mould the rice into a dome shape and flanked it with a chicken wing to the right and some salad to the left, it almost looked like he ordered his meal from an actual restaurant. Frank was hungry so he had to stop admiring his dome-shaped rice and actually eat if he wanted to stop his singing stomach in time to get back to work. Retrieving the napkin that was neatly folded by the side of his plate, he carefully unfolded it and placed it on his lap, then dutifully picked up the cutlery to bring the mountain of rice down. The first spoon of rice that went into his mouth came out almost immediately and he kept spitting into his handkerchief, apparently, the chef forgot what boiled rice should taste like, he tried the chicken and it tasted stale, so he didn't even bother with the salad. He wasn't going to let anything spoil his beautiful Tuesday, he got up, and without uttering a word to anyone, placed the napkin back on the table after using it to clean the sides of his mouth, and walked out of the restaurant.
YOU ARE READING
GOOD INTENTIONS
General FictionFrank was mandated to carry out a simple assignment given to him that involved him dealing with the opposite sex, but what he did wrong was underestimate how powerful hormones can be.
