atoms&void

For the first time since 2020 when I was into Kaynayo Kanayo, I have a massive crush on a course mate and it's the most unlikely person. (Insert name)—misunderstood, intelligent, smart, witty, hilarious, hardworking, and to my unwillingly admittance–somewhat, kinda, handsome.  I think everything changed after he got a haircut. He just automatically looked better & taller & darker and his mustache—he has an actual mustache nestling right above a set of the most perfectly shaped and dare I say, supple lips I have seen in recent times.  Things don't just stop there. His fingers are perfectly sculptured—he helped me understand my fascination with beautiful fingers and toenails because one good look at his, and I couldn't deny the unnatural affection I felt for his trimmed nails. He has been a hundred percent honest with me–at least that’s what it seems like. He has continually emphasized the fact that he doesn't want a girlfriend. I don’t know if I should step up an...

I leaned my head against the window frame by his bedside and caressed the hardened bubbles made of dried paint on the edge. I sighed and took a well-deserved drag from the blunt he had rolled up for me. He said he was trying to quit, but even I knew that was a joke. The trail of smoke, like a ballet dancer, followed. It lingered for a while as I looked on. “How do you feel?” I heard him ask. He was playing me a beat he had recently produced. It was nice. The way sunflowers were nice. He was going to be a world-class producer when the time was right. “I don’t know. Drowning perhaps,” I answered silently in a single breath. “You’ll float, Orla. You always do,” he said reassuringly.  I knew that was the reason I fell in love with him in the first place.  

There was a stench in the air when I woke up. I didn't see them at first as I tried to adjust my eyes to the blinding sunlight, peering into my room from the window. The sun wasn't supposed to go up in another hour or so except... I jerked off my bed, and that was when I saw them. They were just like Baba had described--purple creatures with heads, the shape of a Rubik's cube. My hands were stretched out as if telling them to calm down a bit before blasting me into oblivion. "If we wanted to kill you, we could have done it while you slept," the one who looked like the leader spoke. "Err, thank you for your time and patience..." I said, uncertain of what was right or wrong at this point. I could easily take all four of them out if only Baba hadn't left with my Xuci, the night before. My Xuci, a spear-shaped old weapon of war, was far from my abode. Without it, I was nothing but a mere mortal.  "Why haven't you killed me yet?" I asked, su...

You both met on a Friday. Technically, it was on a Wednesday, but since you classified to meet someone and to see someone as two different terms in that, to see someone for the first time meant to notice them; their soft eyes and cherubic dimpled smile. Whereas meeting someone for the first time was to have a conversation with them and discover odd things that you both share in common (e.g., that their phone had also fallen in the loo just as yours had) and information you had no idea what to do with, (e.g., that they had lived in Lagos State for two years, Port-Harcort for five and, Ekiti for two) and have them tell you compliments that made you swoon (e.g., is this your natural hair? It’s so beautiful.) So, basically, you both met on a Friday. It was at the only branch office of the telecommunication providers that you used in your town. In the tiny ice-cold office of that grim Friday morning, while he retrieved your lost phone number, took your passport, and scanned your fingerprint...

      1.   You met in your third year at the local Redeem Parish that you worshiped at. He was small, only a few inches taller than you. His stiletto-shaped fingernails  grazed the notes on the keyboard so effortlessly that it seemed like magic. Paul was not like the others you had met before. There was something about him that made him distinctive. Perhaps, it was in the way he laughed, how he spoke slowly as if he were begging the words to fall from his lips. The way he paid keen attention to the choristers as they rehearsed was admirable. You wished he would pay attention to you the same way.   Paul was the type of guy everyone liked. The kind the akara woman would call, “Nkem,”  and "Nwoke oma" by the lady who sold pepper and tomatoes at the market. The first time you both spoke was on a Tuesday at the balcony of Kachi’s place. The media crew from church were meeting up for a small get-together and, he had tagged along. You had walked out of the ...