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Days were neither scarlet nor crimson for Kunle before his elegant skin kissed the smouldering sun as Lagos based journalist who had been working with dearth. His work jumbled as a political correspondent. He was handy to his job and he wrote story against the government of Nigeria. Indeed, he was a journalist who had been writing for his gusto since he began his career. Kunle’s office was accustomed with simple decoration; with étagère of books and old copies of tabloids. His phone rang; twice, and repeatedly with the song of Reggae maestro, Bob Marley-Redemption Song. He was corrosive to pick but the phone kept ringing as if apocalypse was giving a warning; and he picked.
Kunle: ‘’ Hello, how can I help this caller?’’
He spoke but the silence was frustrating his cantankerous
Kunle: ‘’ Hello, can’t the caller speak’’
His florescence for patience was weary and he threw his phone at the flower vest beside the book he was reading before the strange call. He dropped the phone, which rang with misfortune headache to him. He ignored the call but the mellifluous voice of Marley kept foxy like the Lagos traffic. And such traffic can be terrified. Whereas that leads to weakness as a Lagosian pauper—in fact that gives Lagos a hocus-pocus sobriquet.
Kunle: ‘’ Does the caller think I don’t have a job doing? He or she must be stupid; mad and senseless for keeping mute when I picked the previous call’’
Immediately, he picked the book he was reading; which was exciting to him. He dropped the book and walked with little pomposity to his office water dispenser, took water and gulp. Later, he took the remote of his office L.G air-conditioner and increased the breeze, which was like plentiful snows in his office. He sat on his office sofa and buried his eyes on his HP Laptop. His fingers were making different rhythms on the laptop keyboard. He soliloquized…………
Kunle: ‘’ I want to write article for my people on the creek’’
He could not see the silhouette himself because dusk was ascending; but the moon had not taken its orbit toward the darkness of the night. He parked his office bags; redressed and stepped to the door before he remembered his phone, from where he had thrown it. He picked and put inside his empty trousers’ pocket. He shut the door and he left for home.
His office was at Alagomeji; he promenaded toward Herbert Macaulay road to the bus stop of BRT, Bus Rapid Transit. He was on the queue when he saw bus that had commuters sitting and standing. The bus approached the queue; he had already prepared himself to climb the bus before it drove away from Fadeyi bus-stop. He manoeuvred himself midst other commuters and his journey began. He alighted at Ojota; with tiredness and walked as snail to his resident.
Kunle: ‘’ Kemi, where are you?’’
Kemi: ‘’ Honey, you are back and how is work? ‘’
Kunle: ‘’ Fine, Today has been perfect so far except a strange call received from unknown person’’
Kemi glisten face changed with what he had spoken. She tried to bring him lively with the aroma of his favourite delicacy that she had prepared for him
Kemi: ‘’ Baby, you must be famished? But before you eat, you need to wash up yourself due to the Lagos sweat’’
Kunle: ‘’ Okay, that’s my baby and I will always write you poetry of love, whenever you want me to whisper the poem to you’’
Kemi: ‘’ You are funny. But tell me that you are speaking Shakespearean poetry?’’
Kunle: ‘’ Why should I give you this obscure poetry because I know your poetry begins with money and ends with sex’’
They both laughed hysterically
They both departed, Kunle visited the rest-room to wash himself to the taste of his delectable wife. She had wanted to dish the meal in such a buffet; but all of the sudden she brings her phone and dial a digit.
Kemi: ‘’ Hello, Alhaji why do you call him with strange number?’’
Alhaji: ‘’ The network caused the incommunicado’’
Kemi: ‘’ That was nonsense. You can’t allow him to begin suspicion about the call’’
She heard the sound of his slipper flip-flop on the tiles of the living room toward the kitchen; and with hasty, she dropped the phone between the pockets of her apron.
Kunle: ‘’ Honey, are you not done with the food?’’
Kemi: ‘’ Almost my lord’’
He sat with amusement; that all his stomach worms had already eaten. He took the Television remote; swiftly his eyes saw the headline below the soap opera and he was disillusioned. She came near him with her perky smile, her resolute to him was more than the meal. Perhaps they both talked in uncourtly manner, and she laughed away her adrenaline.
Kemi: ‘’ Don’t tell me the meal will make you go insane?’’
Kunle: ‘’ I was exhausted before but now the aroma deluges my worms’’
Kemi: ‘’ You must be crazy’’
Kunle: ‘’ Don’t you know love is crazy when you have too much emotion like I do’’
Kunle: ‘’ You have hypnotized me with your care and meal’’
Kemi: ‘’ Okay. Hope foolishness is not the love you have for me?’’
Kunle: ‘’Haha! I love you as the colour of rainbow. In fact, you are the woman am destined to marry’’
Kemi: ‘’ journalists are not pious about lies’’
Kunle: ‘’ My truth is beneath the skirt of your beauty’’
Kemi: ‘’ This is vulgar’’
Kunle: ‘’ This is love’’
The news headline was still showing, as he opened his office bag to bring out his notepad and began to write headline before he glimpsed on this headline: Water Kills four in Oloibiri.
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Question: what could be the relationship between Kemi and Alhaji?
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