From the movement of his long fingers, he is cramming. His notes, carefully drafted, sit on his lap like a kid having its diaper changed. His letters are carefully shaped, too carefully shaped for a civil engineer. For a man.
Apart from his Chinua Achebe like fro, he is just about as interesting as my grandmother’s maize farm. Only with a cologne that smells heavenly. The moment I got a whiff of it, I thought ‘eish, Mary Magdalene, this must have been the spray you took to the good lord.’
By the way, is it just I who is puzzled by men who don’t smell like anything? Not even sunlight soap? Now men, no one is asking you to buy Hugo Boss or some other expensive cologne. But please, it would do mother earth a lot of good if you smelled of anything. Even geisha.
This blog is part of a Storymoja festival challenge. You can visit their site and find a whole lot of good stuff there.