Cold Feet
“It’s obvious that by now you know I like you a lot.” “What?” I retort with a cheeky face I make when I’m trying to downplay these situations. “I do, and it feels like you’re stealing my heart ma’am.” “But I am a career criminal Sir, you shouldn’t be surprised.” My humour kicks in and I’m getting excited. “I can’t have you running in the streets free like that, I should cuff you sometime.” “Well, catch me if you can!” and I cough faintly. “Ok, get your witty ass in we got to go.” I have a cold but he says we should go out. He insists and fine, I let him have it. I could manage. We drive off to grab some burgers at the mall and catch up in an open space. He says staying indoors and cuddling up with my teddy bear, Bubbles, doesn’t help. He speaks like an indigenous Kenyan and I totally understand. He says I look good today. With my blue cardigan sweater, jeans and bata ngomas. “But my eyes are bloodshot don’t you see? “But I said what I said Monique.” His inner self mus