Raindrops hit the street with the force of small pebbles. Each drop looked like a pearl or tear before breaking into millions of fragments on impact and then dissolving forever as another of the puddles that adorned the street’s surface like make-up on a model’s face. It was in one of these puddles Shayo stumbled and almost lost her footing.
“Shit!” she cursed vehemently as her left ankle twisted cruelly. She cursed again as her umbrella moved slightly, her hand trembling, exposing her seventy thousand naira Brazilian weave to the unrelenting rain. And then she winced as she tried to move her leg but it was not responding. Looking up, she found she still had a long way to go.
It was an awkward situation.
Here she was, looking like a million bucks complete with her Deola Sagoe dress, Gucci flat-soles, LV handbag and freshly manicured extremities.
“This would not do,” she thought and tried to move again. Paralyzing pain flashed through her leg and she screamed involuntarily; falling to her knees in the rain. Hot tears started from her eyes and she cursed the bastard who had gotten her out of bed that night.
“It was your greed,” her more honest side whispered, “you could not afford to pass up one hundred and fifty thousand naira for a night so don’t curse the bastard who gave you a chance.”
Slowly, she tried to rise, staggering slightly but holding tightly to her bag and the umbrella. Suddenly, the world lit up and she felt as naked as Janet at Nipplegate as the lights of an approaching vehicle caught her in their center…