TRAFFIC

‘Daddy!’ Karen was screaming, her voice was loud shrill and piercing enough to shatter his fond reverie. Her skinny little legs dangled partially out of the car window and her sticky fingers caked in smudges of molten chocolate swung wildly into his face almost poking his left eye.
‘karen!,’ Adam choked, panic seized him for a brief moment then anger brimmed over as he slowed down wildly and dragged his daughter bodily into a sitting position into the car. ‘What are you doing?!’ he snapped way over himself. A car behind him honked impatiently. He was holding up traffic.
‘You could have gotten yourself killed! Do you know that!” he was shouting now and he could tell because his little skinny elf flinched visibly, her mischievous smile vanishing rapidly replaced with an agonizing sullen sulk.
‘Don’t you ever, ever do that again, you hear!”
She sniffled ‘yes daddy,’ she muttered
‘you hear!?” he could feel the blood rush up his temples. It frightened him too. He had never been this mad, not since the day he felt he couldn’t save Sasha.
‘Yes, daddy’, her teary voice rung out, shrill, for some attention.
Her large eyes started to fill up with the visible imprints of tears. She curled up in the co-driver seat of the Volks , her eyes fixedly staring at her father like she was deciding whether she knew him or not. Adam rolled up her glass frantically from the main control centre, ignoring the honking that was getting absurdly loud. Then he relaxed and pulled up into the line. In that short space of time the line had suddenly thickened into a steady jam that was not loosening anytime soon.
Some errant taxi tried to squeeze within the short distance between him and a Toyota premio and grazed the body of the Toyota. He watched abstractedly as a small verbal exchange ensued with the driver of the Toyota premio getting out of his car armed to the teeth for a hand- to- hand combat, in that moment thousands of drivers honked wildly, others joined the Toyota man in verbal encouragement. The police close by could do nothing with a dozen enraged people hurling insults in the blazing hot afternoon sun at the taxi driver and eventually at each other.
On any other given day he would have enjoyed the drama but today. It got him bad.
It’s strange how some things stay and don’t go away easily. He could not explain why he dreamt about her, her smile the mischievous glint in her eyes when she was teasing him or taunting him about something, then her laughter when she beat him constantly at a game of chess. He could never out do her. So much he asked her to sign up for competitions, then the dream shifted from fond memories to Sasha staring at him, her large sad eyes filled up with tears and she was holding Karen so tight, he was afraid she would squash her. The rest of it was hazy.
He missed her like he had never missed her before. Why did she have to go when he needed her the most? Everything faded to grey around him. He stared stonily ahead looking at cars tops for miles.
Sasha, his heart seemed to speak her name louder than his own voice. He hopped that even where she was then, she was looking at him, helping him, believing that he could raise their daughter as well as she had done for the last four years before her passing.
She left too soon. He could not forget that afternoon she complained she felt dizzy. It was one of those hot afternoons just like today. She had been on and off for days and had taken it lightly. The doctor had said it was stress she needed to rest. It would be okay. He watched her lose weight alarmingly in two days and the dizzy spells got worse. So when she complained he was more than ready to take her to hospital for check up. He regretted not doing it earlier, he regretted giving in to her stubborn strength. He admired that about her. She juggled two jobs and her family and never complained. If there was ever a super woman it was Sasha, he was proud to show her off. He knew a couple of his friends fancied her too and that boosted his ego even more. He had it all… in a small package…like Karen. Every day he looked at Karen, he saw Sasha, the stubborn strength, the naughtiness, the brilliance, the boldness, the beauty within and without. The fierce need to be loved and needed by those she loved. God, he decided had an interesting way of compensating a loss.
He could see himself again in the hospital waiting room being told Sasha had to stay in hospital. He had called work to say he had an urgent home issue and had waited for two hours while Sasha was examined. The doctor assured him after a few tests they would let him know and now he could not take his Sasha home.
‘Can I see her, at least?’ the words spoken then were as clear as though he had just spoken them.
She was smiling when he got to her bed side, needles in her arms, attached to a drip, the doctor had been hesitant to tell him what was wrong, and he said he would let him know after a few more tests …the next day. Her bright large eyes that had arrested him in their dating days arrested him again, she looked so young and frail, and he was compelled to take her in his arms.
She laughed while he held her’ where’s the bone crunching hug, Hulk!” she teased. He was the Incredible Hulk and she was the Laughing Elf, names they gave each other after a few dates way back. S he had been so little then and had not changed a bit even after she gave birth. He recalled carrying her around the house much when she was heavy with Karen and her varicose veins were so swollen she could hardly walk much. Even in that moment she bore it all with a smile. She was his hope.
Now Hope needed him; Love. ‘I am afraid I will make this worse,’ her deep throaty laughter bounced off the walls of that crystal clean hospital room warming his heart. ‘aww come on, don’t be chicken, Hulk. My strong Hulk is here and that’s more than this.’ She whispered. For a fleeting second he thought he heard her choke, but she held him steady.
‘I love you Elfy,’ he told her.
‘I know. I love you more. Where is Karen?’
‘I took her to Aunt Louise’s for a while, she was asking about you will bring her in tomorrow to see you.’
Then Sasha surprised him ‘no, I will come home tonight, I feel okay. ‘
He had drawn back then puzzled. ‘But…’
She smiled and he could see her fighting the tears. ‘I am okay, hon, I am okay, it was just a moment.’
He found out then that Sasha had actually coaxed her diagnosis results from the doctor. She had leukemia. He couldn’t believe it, even now it was hard for him to believe it that his beautiful vivacious Sasha was dying.
But not if he could help it.
He recalled the tests, the treatment, her faith, her love…. She read Karen bedtime stories through it all, denying weakness. Their trips to the hospital, then to South Africa for treatment but she dint make it. The doctors said it was late and yet he had prayed occasionally falling on his knees, making promises to God, begging him to give his Elf back to him.
Sasha passed on on Christmas Eve. She died in his arms. She was so weak and frail but her eyes still glowed with life and she told him God always knew what was best for everyone then she reminded him of a disaster date they once had when he thought she would never talk to him again and they laughed about it. She laughed her deep throaty laugh; he could tell it hurt her.
‘I think it’s time for this Elf to go to fairyland,’ she smiled tiredly at him
He had never felt so helpless, ‘no, not yet, I need you. Karen needs you.’
She smiled ‘you are Hulk, remember? Don’t forget that, keep our baby girl.’
She had stopped fighting. She yielded to death. And for a split moment he was mad at her. Why did she have to give up! His conscience jabbed him revisiting the scene of her battle to live from the moment she was diagnosed and shame shadowed his thoughts. She was in excruciating pain and he knew her situation was dire. The intensive care unit was his wake up call to that realization.
‘Merry Christmas, handsome. ‘ she smiled.
He wanted to touch her again, feel her again with his hands but the hospital‘s intensive care instructions had him covered up. It was not safe for him to get into so much contact with her frail body.
‘No, don’t go.’ He kept saying, even when he knew he had to let her go.
‘I love you guys,’ her voice faltered and she lay back sighing like a weary traveler finally finding solace and peace. The smile spread on her lips was the last thing she wore as she lay like a baby, cradled in his arms .
His mind reeled back further to the little things, the way she curled up at his side and he would listen to her breathing and suddenly she would go, ‘will you watch me all night?’
He remembered his sister describe them, ‘I have never seen too people love like you two, it’s so fresh it’s infectious, and deeply passionate.’
He couldn’t deny that.
He smiled now as he remembered how young she always seemed to be. A fountain of youth seemed to flow from within her with a warm force that enveloped everyone around her. She always had a bright idea for what they could do every special day and holiday. She was his light bearer, his companion, his best friend. After her death he understood the meaning of being lost. He caught himself often talking to her absently and Karen would look at him strangely. His world was loose at the hinges and steadily falling apart. He wasn’t sure he could define reality from a dream because he seemed to walk into one and escape the other. Karen hated the nannies he got her, she wanted mummy.
He felt so inadequate. She wanted mom’s bedtime stories, mom’s mashed potatoes with chicken, mom to come take her for icecream Or swimming. What could he tell a six year old? He thought she had guessed when they went for the burial, apparently not.
‘Daddy!’ It’s hot,’ Karen’s voice broke through his reverie, soft and shaky but defiant, she wanted his attention, and she wanted him to love her. He drew in a sharp breath, aware of the jam suddenly and the noise and traffic but above all his little girl, their little girl, God’s gift to him.
He looked into his daughter’s enquiring eyes; she seemed to say, ‘why do you push me away?’
And for the first time in a year since Sasha died he realized he had pushed her away. So much because of the resemblance that held Sasha‘s intensity. Her personality and her flair for life exuded Sasha. She was a handful, the teachers had complained. Sasha had been a handful, her parents had told him and he could not face the pain so for a year he run.
‘Daddy, why are you crying?’ came the innocent bold question. His eyes caught his reflection in the rear view mirror and he was shocked to see the trail of translucent salty tears stream down his right cheek.
He riveted his gaze back to her,’ come here, sugar,’ Karen’s eyes brightened with renewed hope. All was forgotten. She leapt from her seat and haphazardly crawled onto his lap settling comfortably in his big strong arms.
Suddenly memory hit him like a ripple effect. It was the day her hormones seemed to be raking havoc on her nerves, she was in her trimester period of pregnancy and he came home found her crying. A sad movie had caused her to bowl like a baby, they laughed about it later but then he was in panic. And she had told him to hold her.
She had crawled up to him on the couch and curled up like a kitten on his lap. She sobbed a bit about everything. He never thought pregnancy would be this erratic . One minute she was in control, the next out. He had held her. She had felt so vulnerable and an overwhelming urge to protect her from her self filled him. And they had sat there in the living room talking about anything and she was brooding miserably and he did what he knew best to do; he loved her with his soul.
He filled her with his assurance. He felt her with his heart until she fell asleep and he took her to bed. Watching her for awhile as she curled up against him. His little Elf.
Now Karen curling up in his arms brought him to the edge of his fight; between the present and the past. The dream and the reality. He needed to make a choice now.
Embrace his daughter, ‘look after their baby girl,’ or hold on to Sasha
What would she want? He suddenly remembered how the dream ended.
She gave him Karen and told him ‘she’s yours now, love her like you loved me.’
He allowed the tears to flow.
‘Baby, I am sorry I got so mad at you, I was scared…scared …’ he trailed off
‘Sorry daddy,’ Karen curled up deeper almost digging into his chest. ‘I won’t do it again.’
She piped out.
He rocked her against him holding her tighter, rubbing her little back and letting the tears flow. He was letting go now. He could feel it.
‘ l love you, baby,’ he was saying, ‘ I love you.’
‘ I love you, too daddy,’ and for a long while in that jam nothing seemed to matter. He dint care if traffic loosened again soon and a thousand angry drivers pummeled his car to the ground. This was the moment he had been looking for.
Needed desperately.
‘I miss mummy.’
He was quiet, then he sniffed, ‘me too pumpkin, me too,’
Then the unexpected question he had constantly avoided. ‘She is not coming back?’ it was rhetoric. He could feel her clutch the back of his thick neck with her little fingers, trying to return the caress. He took a while to answer that; the battle within him was intense. Letting go was hard
Sweat beads formed on his brow soaked the back of his shirt but he felt freer than he had in months. He let out his breathe, calm and slow. ‘No, she is not coming back, pumpkin. It’s just you and I now. ‘He run his fingers through her braids, ‘just you and I.’
She seemed to understand this quicker than he thought she had,
‘Okay,’
And the noise of traffic, mingled with the heat, angry pensive drivers and passengers became fading dreams in this moment.

like i said

my darling eddy,

i know that i would rather believe a lie. i want to believe it and i will believe it.
two months ago Mabel, you know, the girl i go to the gym with who has also become my best friend. a sweet person she is, totally harmless, and frail in so many ways, even in the way her brows lift and the light way she laughs. she reminds me of myself before i gained all this weight.

she is adorable. and yet so together, the gym being the only place we concile in the worlds of weight. shes as tinny as a tooth pick and i wonder, Ed, why the gym is her haven... for what?
oh Eddy, from fear. the fear of being beaten again by her husband. she goes for boxing classes and kunfu.
well Mabel is not the issue here. but we have been hanging alot for quite sometime now and her infectious laugh continues to amaze me, at how light she can be even with an eye darkened by continual backhand slaps that she's gotten. her pretty face young and fresh has aged in weeks ,in months
and she is beginning to wear out but her eyes her laugh her smile...are etched in my mind....at how beautiful her soul is and i am buffled that he hits her.
i am stunned to think a man like that does not see the gem he has.the woman she is,a hard worker, a perfect cook, a wonderful housewife, a gentle loving dove, a woman men at the gym continually try to charm. and in their eyes i see their yearning; to hold her, protect her, love her better than her husband. the seem to see her pain but they don't know how to break through the shell shes created. a soft bubble about her that wont prick when you try to get close, no. it simply pushes you off and you still love her in spite of you...even when she is out of reach.
i see them mile around her like ravens, and she's kind and sweet but they get no where.
the issue like i said isn't about Mabel.
its about us.
today, i decided to move on Eddy love.
i admire Mabel for being strong and loving her man, but i cant handle the pain, or the bitterness growing and changing me within that i cant define who i am anymore.
yes i cant cook, no icant be as nice to your friends as you want. i am not the perfect housewife and you knew you were getting that when we got married.
i wanted to give my best but you kept blowing my efforts. i got fat
you said i was lazy and careless. no
i was depressed and tired of you not loving me for me and loving an image of me you created. the me you were in love with and when you took those coloured glasses off, i was there, before you. just me.
no imagery, no illusion
no fantasy dream
just me. and now, the blackness evades my heart, the gangrene eats deeper and i feel sicker, i cant keep living this way and i must go on. get away from you.

well Mabel is totally sweet, i told you and i ache for her now even as i Write you this note, i got a call earlier that was the focal point of this little missive. Mabel, called me and for the first time she broke down. i was taken aback,
she never cried telling me her pain. now she did
she told me she was on her way to the hospital alone.
blood was oozing from her left leg,
a green stick fracture. he hit her so hard she fell over the living room accessory and some how got the injury
i cried with her all the way. she said she was tired
she wasnt strong enough to fight back
but she vented her fight, crying retching and cursing. my beautiful Mable never cursed
but she did.
l mourned with her... then something went wrong.
she was losing it...control of the wheel. there was noise, commotion, then

nothing.
i am still devastated. i know she was on the road to _______ hospital, and i need to see that she is okay because i sensed the accident. the impact numbed me.

i dont want that happenning to me
so i am leaving you Eddy, my love.
i need a doze of sobriety restored within. i need to start all over again.

Katey

when it hurts so bad

The cold clammy drops of yesterday’s heavy downpour fall in a slow rhythmic pattern on my bare arm
Drip
Drip
Drip
Its funny how annoying this usually can be
But today
Today is different.
Today my body burns hot, hot. A seering heat that blazes from my soul and envelopes me like the stinging pain from a freshly pinched throbbing ear.
The drops, cool, harsh, seem to seep into my soul fanning the burning heat within.
I sit there on the front porch of my house embracing both the inky night and its chilly breeze, allowing my soul to vent. My fingers trace their path through my tangled hair, jabbing gently with their tips to get to the roots and I am wondering when I will visit the salon.
Nothing does matter now,
Not now
Maybe tomorrow.
Today was not good.
Not good at all.
I found out Keriko was cheating on me.
Well, not technically.
It’s just that I am not over him even long after the break up and both our decisions that it was best for either of us.
He isn’t over me either and it’s been four months.
It’s just his technique of ‘moving on’ as fast as possible with whomever.
I wish I could be happy for him but it hurts and burns like a caterpillar rash
And all the scabs keeping in the healing wound can’t contain this blow. It’s opening afresh.
I can smell the coppery odor of blood as my soul’s scabs tear open.
It smarts!
It burns like pepper in my eyes.
I’m trying not to cry but I can’t help it. And it does not come easy either. My soul has no voice to express my tortured lament, so with every heave, my eyes brim over and fresh hot hot tears escape from the throbbing wound within
Soundlessly
Today was not a good day.
I brush my temples with the back of a heated hand and squeeze my eyes tight shut. The lids hurt with the fatigue of holding in so much. Laden with pent up grief and the scabs tear further releasing a fresh volt of pent up emotion that willfully roll down my face in clear salty tears.
The drops from the old pipe ceaselessly wet my arm, competing with each other drop after drop to maintain moisture on my heated arm.
Finally I inhale deeply, sucking the hot air in my soul. I am startled and shocked at the magnitude of heat pain produces as I let it out shakily.
I clasp my neck and test for what I am sure is already there,, the feverish sensation- the onset of something I dreaded.
The drops become chillingly cold- almost painful—I still welcome them. Maybe my body wont heed to this rudimentary torture, but my soul..oh my battered soul will surely scab again.

would you

would you mind if i told you
if i toldyou what am about to tell you
wouldyou mind?
would you mind if i told you what iam about to tell you
and tolds you what am about to tell you
would you mind? would you mind it would youmind that i told you what iam about to tell you would you mind?
would you let me tell you what i think you wouldmind me telling you?
would you mind?
maybe you would
maybe i shouldnt tell you

pieces of yesterday

I have been running so far. So fast and so hard from anything that reminded me of you, the friends we shared…I haven’t called them in months. Maybe they understand
Maybe not. I find myself past caring, Rex, your high school best friend texted me two days ago. He wanted to know how I was. I could not tell him I had taken leave onthe pretext of looking after my pregnant sister who is in Hawaii as I write but life seemed to have slipped from my fingers and left me cold and empty.
I could not tell our good friends that I have been lying on the soft brown leather couch that we used to huddle in and play scrabble for the past two weeks now; drinking milkshakes and gorging up obscene lumps of chocolate and now and again when my willpower is gone, tots of whiskey and wine….
After the mad binge is over, I stare blankly at the TV screen and almost spontaneously the tears start to flow. I don’t sniff or wipe them out. They seem to be excess pain that could not settle within the broken cracks of my festering heart. A clammy cold heart,,, and the feeling flows like goo down to my numb feet.

I lie down again, belch and feel sick of the mingled cocktail of alcohol, chocolate and milk rising up my tight throat.

I wish I could cry
Bawl out like a baby
But
My breast is heavy and sick; empty of anything real and beautiful.
I am terribly aware of how hopeless I feel. Alone and trapped within a shell called pain. It feels strange; why can’t I seem to break out of it?
I am afraid my pastor will start to call or text. I have not been to church in a long while. Not since it happened.
I could not forget it. That awful day
And I blame myself.
‘I should have seen it coming…’
‘I shouldn’t have trusted him to…’
‘how could I be so stupid to believe…
‘why is this happening to me….’
‘when will the hurting stop….’
My bible lies atop a box of chocolates.
I vaguely hear common sense warn me to watch my weight, believe God for the best, all things happen for a reason and I will get broke soon.
I wish I could care… but I don’t.
Out of force of habit, I pick up that old familiar bible and for the first time in weeks , a part of me suddeny lungs forward for a strange feeling of comfort that spreads widely within the hollow of the deep wound
My mind mauls through some of the scriptures I can remember through the vague distorted haze in my mind. I can barely understand it.
I badly want to sleep.
Sleep until all this is over so I can wake up free from the numbness but a tiny part of me relishes that elusive moment. My emotions travel through the pain, feeling its intensity so hard it shocks me.
The emptiness within me bars me from saying anything flowerier than the truth I feel now;
‘I need you to love me now. Don’t ask me to try coz I am so helpless. I can’t even pray. I just want to be honest. I want the pain to go away’ and in this truest moment with my maker, I realize I have never been as real or spoken so real a prayer as this.Suddenly the cold exterior of my broken heart seems to tear open and a pool of pain

a job seeker's bane

She stepped into the reception area quite clumsily in an effort to dodge any raindrops that may soil her over worn suite. As she shook her umbrella, she was extremely aware of the eyes from behind the desk that summed her up into quite a small unit. However, she chose not to be intimidated.
Squaring her small shoulders and patting her rather thick hair down absently, she matched up to the desk, a charming smile coated her faintly glossed lips.
“Good morning, madam,” she managed politely and stated her reason for her call that morning. the receptionist raised her exquisitely cut brows, glanced at her boredly in one sweeping glance and languidly, as if not to mess her freshly manicured nails, picked the phone and placed a call to her boss.
Anne did not burge, she had met many receptionists and secretaries like this before, snobbish and without a trace of customer care. She had heard rumours that most times they were sleeping with the boss and a new girl, better looking than them would pose a real threat. She was determined not to be ousted if she finally got this job. she’d looked around for far too many, gone for numerous interviews only to have them make her unfulfilled promises or worse still hound her down for dinner, coffee and sex eventually. She was sick of it all.
“You can go in,” the receptionist’s voice was lazy as she made another sweeping with her hand to the door she should go through. Anne walked to the door warily and knocked, then turned the doorknob to usher herself into a plush spacious office. The scent in the room was a blend of some masculine perfume-designer, she supposed- mingled with the faint odour of polished furniture. Her eyes fell on the huge man behind the desk.
“Come in, come in,” he urged her in a faint British accent, without looking up. She imagined he had been brought up in a well to do family that had spent most of his early years abroad and now Britain was oozing out of him. “Please have a seat,” he added, still not looking up.
“Thank you,” Anne replied carefullyseating herself in the chair in front of his desk. finally, he looked up and seemed for a fleeting moment to pause as if studying her then quickly address her. “I’ve been looking through your CV and it is very impressive, I must say…” she nodded, made a few comments accordingly throughout the whole assessment but was oddly aware of the fact that his eyes seemed to roam over her in an unusual manner. It made her feel almost naked.
Suddenly, he asked her something that got her suspicious and guarded. “Are you seeing someone?”
She frowned, “my CV states my status, sir”
“Yes, it says single but single could mean attached” as he clasped his hands together, her eyes caught the sparkle of a wedding band on his marriage finger. She raised her brow slightly; deeply disappointed that this was yet another of them men that felt they could get favours in exchange for a job. She pitied the woman that was bound to him in matrimony.
“I am single, sir,” she stubbornly stated with a finality in her voice. He seemed slightly daunted but covered it up.
“Well,” he sighed, “you do have all the qualities this firm needs and also the fact that you’re single is an added advantage. You see, there will be a number of out of Kampala engagements and being attached would make it pretty hard for you.”
He paused slyly, “if you have any questions, please…” he trailed off.
“No sir,” she replied, looking back at him.
He smiled faintly, “well, then…” he stood up and walked round to her. In his hand, he held a small paper… his business card. “There is more we need to discuss but I am held up now, what about later on today over coffee, hmm?”
She frowned deeper, “I…I thought we had discussed everything?”
“Yes, almost…” he remarked as though tired of her incessant defiant remarks. “Nevertheless, there is some more I need to discuss with you. Coffee or dinner?” he asked unashamedly handing her the card.
She cleared her throat, now sure, where this was heading. “I’ll think about it.”
“You don’t have much time, about ten hours. Do call me at lunch and let me know.” he added. She stood up “thank you sir for your time.
“You’re welcome. Do call and call me Mike, drop the ‘sir’ formality, it makes me feel old” he humored. She pursed her lips.
“Have a good day,” he continued charmingly, leading her to the door, “a pretty girl like you deserves one.”
Utterly disgusted, she almost run out of the firm. Tears welled up in her eyes as the whole episode replayed in her mind.
Her heart sunk and broke for his wife and herself. She ripped the card in her hand into many pieces as she had done many times before, thinking how nice it would have been to be an assistant in such a place, but not at such a price. Pangs of sadness, remorse and regret jabbed at her, was this the fate of every job seeker?

the waiting

there is a waiting man, standing,

then turning.

he seems uncertain of his next move.

the morning is early, way too early to be confused.

then i shrug.

its easy for me to think so.

I've got stacks of work on my desk, a mug of hot creamy coffee before me and the newspaper___

I'm turning it over browsing through the commercial page, nonchalantly.

my favourite page because it makes me look more important than i know i am.

i love this cafe. most especially this seat by the window.

weekday mornings are such a joy-stealer; coffee in this spot is all i can do to get warmed up to face my desk, my boss, my boring life.

today may be different.

the man, perks up my curiosity.

he is standing a few feet from my window but i can tell from the rather anxious look on his face that he is waiting for something or someone...

i could profile him...

I've got an hour before office officially opens.

where's my pen?

note pad?

i can tell he is waiting, looking at his watch at intervals of 2 to 3 minutes. the paper in his hand is a charade of his real intention at this spot. he just doesn't want anybody snooping in his business.

no one would anyway, everyone is dashing through the slight drizzle to get to the familiar safety of their work place.

maybe away from the screaming kids, a lousy hubby or a terrible housemate. but he is not running from that. he is trying to find his way back___

retrace his steps in a direction where he missed it

what?

he walks to the table, directly next to me. only the the glass between us , makes us total strangers. he pauses as if to sit but glances at his watch again and seems to think twice about it.

he is turning again. his eyes sad and distant. his soul in an emotional limbo, then he pulls out his phone, stashed away in his trench coat pocket...a beautiful masculine piece...

a message.

"can't make it, Tcherrie. will call you"

and i watch his face. his jaws get taut for a split second. his slightly callous fingers smother the phone as if asserting his masculinity over it. then his hold relaxes and his face softens

in a sad despondent mode, he raises the phone and punches a few numbers- then thinks about it...

and we glance at our watches simultaneously.

its time to go.

and the coldness of the day uncannily edges deeper into my soul.

i swallow my last drops of coffee and get up. he gets up too. i cast him a sympathetic glance and realise he is watching me too..

he knows i know.

we seem to communicate, beyond the cold glass

and his eyes speak back. it will be okay

i smile faintly, reassurringly, as i shoulder my limp bag, i hope she calls