Dirty Sock

September 30th

Chioma inspects her make-up in her full-length mirror. Her foundation makes her brown skin look as flawless as promised on the packaging. Her pink and purple eyeshadow with thin black eyeliner makes her eyes more defined and alive. She does a little twirl in her black slip dress with a high slit on her right thigh. A smile appears on her face.

She glances at her messy bed and sighs. If her red kimono playsuit didn't look so horrible on her then she wouldn't have had to try on a dozen other outfits and dump them on her bed.

She shrugs on her oversized jacket and books her cab: eight minutes away. She sighs and checks the contents of her 90s shoulder bag: power bank, charging cable, lipstick, mirror, bank card in case she can't use Apple Pay, ID, whistle, mini perfume. Where's her lip-gloss? She searches her bed by tossing her clothes on the floor. Nothing. She checks on her cab: six minutes away. She remembers something falling on the floor when she jumped on the bed to answer her phone.

She looks under the bed and sees it right there next to something dark. She picks both items up and sits on the floor. She tucks her lip-gloss in her bag and looks at the cloth in her other hand. It's a sock. A dirty sock. A green one with white stripes and a layer of dust on it. Samba's sock.

Even though her hand trembles, she can't let go of his sock. She's been so busy at work, that she hasn't thought about him in a few days. It might seem short but considering it's only been a month after their breakup, him being out of her head for two days is a step forward.

The longer she stares at the sock, the further her conscience takes her into the forbidden side of her memories. The night where he lost this very sock.

August 31st

'I told you last night,' said Chioma whilst fluffing up her mountain of pillows.

'Come on, I thought you were joking. It's too hot to skip carnival. I made alcoholic ice!'

Chioma giggled. 'Go get drunk with Ama and we'll talk tomorrow, okay?'

May, her best friend, grunted loudly over the phone. 'Fine! Have fun staying home alone.'

'You're such a drama queen.'

'Love you too,' May replied and hung up.

She stood back and looked at her handiwork. Her bedroom was cleaner than ever before. All her clothes were neatly folded and hung in the closet instead of in small piles on the floor or a massive mountain on her desk chair. Her books sat on the bookcase instead of next to her bed. Her pink rug was clean and most importantly fluffy again. Her bed had clean navy sheets. Her favourite moment before bed was sliding onto cool, fresh sheets and smelling the aroma left from the fabric softener.

She sat on the bed and checked her playlists. She felt so lucky that her parents let Samba sleepover. After a year of dating, Samba wanted to take Chioma on holiday to Greece, but her parents wouldn't allow it. So she proposed an idea to her parents. Instead of a holiday abroad, Samba would be allowed to sleep over in her room for a night. If all went well, it could happen more often. To sweeten the deal, Chioma mentioned that they'll be home majority of the day and her parents can check on them whenever they like. They finally gave in after Chioma spent an entire week sulking and dodging conversations.

The doorbell rang. Her mouth curled up in a cheeky grin. 'He's here,' she squealed. She launched herself off her bed, ran down to the front door and buzzed him up. She wiggled her legs as she stared at the numbers changed.

The door opened with a ding and there he was: tall, athletic build and black skin. He wore a fitted white T-shirt with grey knee-length shorts and had a backpack on his back. He smiled, stepped out of the lift and hugged her tight. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist and moved her lips against his warm ones. She felt like the protagonist in a sappy romance novel.