Blame the harmattan please! *coy smile*
Hello world, I have a story to share with you. I’m certain you may have heard similar, but this is being told as it happened to me. It is a story that continues to leave butterflies in my tummy when I think about it; butterflies and moths actually!
My epistle began on the Saturday I decided to be bold and different. The harmattan seemed to be clearing off and I thought it wise to take a break from technology, take a view of the scenery and breathe in the fine air flowing freely. I went to my balcony with my chair and scanned for a while for a good position that would ensure I got the best the view had to offer. I noticed some children playing with their old ball in the other compound, they enjoyed this Saturday routine of theirs as they would chase each other around the street afterwards till their mothers called them in for lunch; they were such lovely kids really.
I had lived in this environment for about 5 months and was familiar with almost everyone as we exchanged pleasantries almost daily, but this tall, dark chocolatey figure that had just walked into my compound seemed strange and intriguing. He looked a bit lost as he kept turning and staring as he spoke on the phone.
Perhaps I was just curious, perhaps I was captivated by the magnific creature before my eyes, I just had to go downstairs to offer my help to a lost being *wink*. As I approached him, I felt this strange uneasiness within me. I couldn’t help but swoon over his toned and slightly muscular arms. It looked like he had just gotten a haircut that beautifully accentuated his perfect jaw line.
The worry on his face almost disappeared as he caught my gaze. He put off the phone into his back pocket and exposed the most beautiful smile I had ever seen on a living being. As he walked closer to me and I to him, I couldn’t help but think that I’d been jazzed. I only read of these emotions in magazines and saw them on telenovelas, always criticizing on how too good to be true their scenes were, but here I was drowning in similar emotions.
I was called back to earth when I heard him speak to me. Just a simple “Hello” from him made the tiny hairs on my hand stand. It sounded coarse yet soft, like they were made from an age long conflux; ever meeting but never mixing, it was magnificent I tell you. I can notice the hairs on my skin stand just by the thought of it.
I think it’s best for me to take a short rest, perhaps you’ll join me here next week to know more about my butterflies and moths and this jazz that seems to have a really strong grip on me.