The Book of Literary H'Enjoyment.

Di Nro.

I lay in the arms of death, her seductive gaze trained upon my face, her glow basking me in its dark radiance, she would soon snatch me away greedily, unwilling to share me any longer with life.

But before I go with her, please permit me; I must tell our story, di nro.

The first letter I wrote to you went unread for years, the edges of the folded paper eaten away by insects and browned with time. I wrote it after the first time I saw you, or rather, I had already conjured the contents of the letter as I watched you carefully cross the puddles that littered Okpara Road.

Dainty little feet that barely made any sound with each step. I still remember how I stifled a giggle when you shrieked, the shriek of disgust that ensued as soon as a bit of the potopoto water sprayed on your calf. That was the exact moment I began to refer to you as "di nro", my tender one.

I began to see you a lot more after that day, perhaps it was because I started to follow you around, hiding behind trees, pretending to urinate by Pa Nnuka's farm while you walked by.

You always walked alone, but I was filled with cowardice, so filled to the brim that I could never approach you.

I regret it, maybe things could have been different; maybe.

I wonder, do you ever think of me? Miss me? I know it's impossible, but still, do you?

The second letter I wrote to you also lay rotting away, right on top of the first. Two long sheets of paper folded and wasting away underneath my desk.

I was still determined to give them to you; I just didn't know when.

The day I almost spoke to you, you had looked dour, miserable even. I had found you crying underneath that big palm tree nearby Achara River. The tears wouldn't stop rolling down your face. My feet stood rooted at that same spot. I should have spoken to you, I know I should have, but instead, I ran back home and consoled you the best way I could — in another letter.

From three letters to five, and soon my desk could not harbor anymore. This was the sign, I needed to hand them over to you.

"Promise me you'd fall for me the way I fell for you once you read my confession." I wrote atop the first letter. They were all stacked in chronological order and bound together with an old rope.

There was a little prep in my step as I walked down to Achara River today. I knew you'd be there at this time, you always were, dipping your toes into the cool waters and humming.

You were there as usual, and my jaw slacked in shock as I watched your corpse float on the water.

You couldn't be dead, you had to be swimming or lounging.

I held your worryingly light body in my arms and saw that there was no more life in your eyes, just the vacuum that death left.

I couldn't let you cross to the other side alone. I never even got the chance to wipe off the muddy water that splashed on your calves when you hopped around in life. I wouldn't leave you to hop around alone in death, di nro.

Permit me to hold your hands while we skip together across all the otherworldly puddles. Allow me to paint your face with a smile that I longed for but never saw.

I love you Obianuju, and you deserve my guidance into the other side. Let us walk the path to the afterlife together.

Mgbe niile.