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Saturday, February 9, 2013

NOT GOOD ENOUGH 2

   Phillip couldn’t sleep. He was restless. He thought the whole scenario over and over again in his head. He couldn’t lose her, not now he had found her. He knew he should give her some space but he couldn’t let a minute go by without letting her know how much she meant to him. He composed love messages and deleted them. None was good enough to tell her how he felt. He tried to call her but she wasn’t picking. He laid there on his rug, tears in his eyes. The last time he had cried was during his mother’s burial. Daphne was everything to him. He felt sure his mom, who he believed was watching over him had sent Daphne to him. He picked up his phone again and composed the sweetest heartfelt message you ever read and sent it. There was no reply, he sent another and another. He picked up his laptop and went through their pictures together. She was so beautiful, perfect for him,
   Daphne was surrounded by her friends; Isy and Ego. They had been friends since childhood. They were happy when Daphne found love. Tonight, they were like Nixi and Cupid. Isy, the pessimist poured it into Daphne’s ears the statistics of celebrity marriages, how celebrities were like butterflies, flying from one flower to the other. Yea, in truth, Nixi had walked into Isy. They were allowed to stay in humans for a short while, other humans and not the parties involved. He had seen the doubt that resided in Isy’s mind, so walking into her body was a small feat. If there was a candle of doubt in her mind, he made it a volcano. That night, Isy gave the best argument of her life. She brought up statistics, pointed out the flaws, the pros and the cons, how all men cheated, how beautiful Viva was compared to Daphne. Daphne reasoned,’Isy was right.’ Cupid couldn’t sit back and watch he walked into Ego.

Friday, February 1, 2013

NOT GOOD ENOUGH

  Love at first sight was no farce in their case. Phillip drove fast down the road; he had an appointment to meet up with. He hated lateness, if he was; he knew they’d write it off as another ‘Superstar attitude’. He hated that tag, so he tried hard to avoid it. He had gone over to his sister’s to help her out. His phone was ringing; he reached out fast to pick it. He knew it must be the producer, calling to find out where the hell he was.
  Daphne had been standing at the bus stop for nigh an hour. The fuel scarcity was making it hard to get a bus. The Taxis she stopped wanted thrice the normal price, so defiantly she stood waiting and praying for a bus. Her feet were killing her, walking was out of the question. The ban on commercial motorcycles to her was a nightmare. It had made movement impossible. Her little salary as a primary school teacher was mere peanuts. She told herself mentally, it was time to look for a new job. She had searched for a year after National Youth Service before settling for this. Her baking business was helping out a little. She saw the red sports car, flying fast towards her, she tried to get away from the huge pothole filled with last night’s rain, she wasn’t so fast, she felt the water hit her, a shower of cold dirty slimy water. She was drenched. She couldn’t believe the car just drove on. The bastard didn’t even stop after what he did. She sputtered; there was water in her mouth. She cursed and cursed the driver whoever he was. She was mad. Onlookers shook their heads in pity, some laughed at her, fine girl in trouble. She was still cursing and using her handkerchief to clean herself up, when a rich baritone voice spoke to her.
‘I am so sorry, I was trying to....’
  She looked up and saw the red sports car. She didn’t let him finish. She went into a tirade,

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