Her Thought Piece

Ting!.. There goes my phone at 11 am. "Happy mother's day hun" Ting! "Mpesa confirmed. You have received..." I giggle and text back 'LOL' with a wink face. This is our little inside joke with my boo. My BFF is already at my door. She reads my face like a damn psychic and she knows something is up. "Guess who gets Mother's day funds?" I jump to say. Are you serious? She laughs and claps and signals me to chuck. We have a spa appointment to get to. She drives my car today because she wants the tea, haha. I'm very expressive with my hands and get carried away when narrating stories. We don't want to die young. My car has yet been scratched because Nairobi.. It is still shiny and brand new. My house lease is far from expiration so hey, I have a lot to live for. I don't know about her. Maybe balcony plants and her 4th situationship this year?? A passion mint cold drink comes in handy with this Nairobi traffic. "How do you sleep

 It's days like this that I think of you harder than I normally do. I mean all the bright red hearts and ads in my face and every Twitter feed how do I stop myself? I don't want to, anyways.  So stranger, we're out in the universe, walking our own paths. We're living; different careers, hobbies, lifestyles. Our backgrounds don't even come close. Yours, a silver spoon in the mouth and while I live hand to mouth. Different journeys but on to the same things. We're seeking to connect at some point. Companionship, to belong, be wanted and understood.  Friend, our priorities align and maybe that's why our paths crossed. After 'nice to meet you', and some jokes, we hit it off. We talk daily. We have a couple of decades to catch up on and time and energy is all we got for that. This is fun. Your company is great and you seem to laugh a lot. Oh, did I tell you about your gorgeous smile? Your subtle touches on my palm. Your goodbye hugs and safe presence. I c

"Is that you?" I ask, as my eyes hover lazily at some small framed picture on the bedside table.  Yes babe, I was cute wasn't I? He responds and turns over to bury his face in my shoulders.  "Ah you were, but what happened hun?" He now wakes up to tickle me hard, and for he knows my weak spots I have to retract those bad things I spoke to him.  "Sorry hun, I've stopped. You're drop dead gorgeous even now, why else would I voluntarily chose to wake up next to you all these times? But if I may ask, how much do you remember about your childhood, how was it like?"  He sits, leaning on the piles of pillows and begins telling me the story of his life. This goes on for the better part of our Sunday morning, and I tell him about mine too. This happens all the time, the vulnerable, heartfelt pillow talks in the morning that keep me hooked for how vivid and dramatic of a storyteller he is. He's such a mood for days I swear.  My humor needs have such

It's 5:23 am, Monday morning. It's pouring and the excess water draining from the roof is slapping the corridor a little too hard. Now I'm awake before I really should and it sucks to have to start this new week with these eyebags I'm staring at on the wardrobe mirror.  I wanna text my person. I haven't seen him all weekend and I miss him so bad my toes hurt. He sent me a text late last night that I peeped at while drifting in and out of sleep. It fazed me. I had waited and waited for the reply and I'm dead ass that skeleton meme lying on the bed. Dude takes his sweet time and I love that about him. He's sweet as 12 icecreams.  I like it slow. I told him that when he asked to be the person I share most of my life with. I like to check what someone is made of before I dive in, feet first. I'm a brittle maiden who craves love and all the good stuff that comes with it. I have done this love thing before and many are times that it's ended in tears. Not e

“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

Just another day of sitting by myself. The rain is pouring, the mist hastily blinding my dusty window from the dreamy sight of falling droplets, and the overcast skies.  Blackouts go hand in glove with such a weather in my country, and the silence disrupts your peace of mind. It felt better dancing to the music in front of the mirror, to binge watch series and play games on my computer. That feels like an easy way of living by myself, no? To drown in to social media, easy.  Now the silence. The cold starts to bite and I slide quickly beneath my furry blankets. And that's not enough. I need a hot drink and snack to warm up faster but getting up from this snug is something I don't want to do. If only someone could come through for me. If only they'd cuddle me up and touch a little, and smooch a little more.  The silence plunges me deeper. To what makes me happy. What keeps me single and solo and satisfied. What gives me the will to live off myself, physically a

"Aki Sue call me in 2 minutes. It's mayday!" I am hysterical and sweating bullets. It's 6:45 p.m during this pandemic. I am too far but I must go home. I hate it here. I loathe this man.  My girlfriend knows the drill and calls back sounding very fierce. My call volume is intentionally high so the man can overhear how impatient my "cousin waiting by my door" is. He now drives a little fast and my heart races even faster, it's winning I can tell. My veins are almost popping out of my skin in dire attempt to guise my disgust. I would cry but Fergie says big girls don't do that.  I know, I know, I should get an Uber but it's actually late. I am a scaredy cat and he's my safest bet home I swear, which hella sucks at this point. He's an authorized medic so I guess we won't be landing into any trouble with the hungry and blood thirsty night crawlers. My bad, I meant to say cops.  There's some serious traffic but in an hour we pull up at