Its twists and turns, its butterflies and rats- first date it is!

“Right now am just trying to figure out my life, what maze I am in and what will unfold after, and that is Very specific” he said with some sense of finality, somewhat like he was passing a point he felt was not getting home, a point he needed to get home. All through he had been avoiding direct eye contact, and no he wasn't shy it was more in hiding what the eye might reveal, maybe hiding a decision that had been made the moment he set his eyes on her? But this time he looked at her, looked at her direct in the eyes like wondering why on earth was she bubbling with laughter, confidence and ease that signified conquest yet this was not to be and so he emphasized “and that is very specific” emphasis was on the present, “is” carried the weight, weight he hoped was now understood! Her ears betrayed her not, she heard it, she heard the emphasis, played it over and over again in her head, mind and heart all while maintaining that disarming smile, a boisterous laughter but a sunken spirit, was that sentence supposed to pass a point? Was it meant for me? Was it contextual or was it hypothetical, she played it over and over again in her mind, she would play it again and again 2 days later in her mind this time tightly hugging her pillow and dismayed by what was unfolding before her eyes; what happened to civility, she wondered but only WhatsApp’s blue double ticks stared back, he had been online, he had seen and read her chat, a chat which was sent 2 days ago a scenario that was a stark contrast to just 48 hours ago….. “And that is very specific” he had muttered!

It’s pretty full in here, he had said when they found Java packed to the last seat, Savana should be okay now. Had he been looking at her legs, ass, hair or height when she took those naturally calculated steps away from Monrovia Street and through Koinange Street and into Moktar Daddah lane? Was he disappointed, euphoric, judgmental or just easy like Sunday morning? She wondered what was going through his mind.

Her mind was equally a bee house; he was taller than she expected, looked cultured, modern, certain, and something she couldn't place… that something was the deal breaker, if only she could put her hand on it….if only!

At what point did she lose him; were her figures not factual enough? Wasn't she well acquainted with what was going on around her? Did she over-read his palm? If only she knew but alas, she knew not!

Something about his tone, something about the finality in his voice, something about his composure, demeanor and grasp of things around him; something about his eyes that gave mixed emotions, something about his gaze something about his being something about what he chose to say, something about his personality something about his “honesty” something about something was shouting disconnect only it came in a soothing sound, playful sound, creeping sound, disarming sound but a final heart breaking sound, it came so unanticipated but it came nonetheless… and that was very specific!

You ain't coming in, she fumbled with the words, unsure of what to say, unsure of how to break the ice unsure of how to end the day....."mhhhhhh not today", he muttered, it was 2 seconds that played out like eternity, she watched him apply the parking break,shifted the gear stick in a "p" position, placed his right foot onto the break pedal, carefully and yet hurriedly she watched him insert the key into the ignition and just before it was fully seated inside the ignition switch, he muttered, "wwwe wwwill talk" talk almost came as a whisper, it sounded so strained that it almost pained her, her disarming smile stayed put only this time it was donning on her that it might not have been a well spent 4 hrs of her time, had he said this was an evening well spent? talk of reverse psychology, she felt conned...

Somehow he did seem to know what was going through her mind because he turned the key three clicks forward, the engine came to life, he released the parking break and sped off without much of a goodnight...

She remembered Chuck Audette's artistic yet deep words

a heart
black like my coffee
or clouded with cream
or sugary sweet
but not the one of my dreams

this mug is too chipped
or frail
or cracked
styrofoam? !
no thank you, something still lacked

EXTRA GRANDE
with cara-mel de-light
too big for my hand -
something ain't right

scalding hot
and bitter, too
or thinks it's all great
and hasn't a clue

overpriced
underfilled
weak or too strong
no matter the cause
there was still something wrong

I always found grounds
for a need to re-order
and I tried coffee shops
north and south of the border

But it's all been for naught
yet there's no need to grouse
for I've got a thought
I should try the tea house…

Online he remained,WhatsApp's blue double ticks stripped his innocence, her belief in humanity dimmed, what happened to integrity of words! She SPAT!