Swift Scribbles: By The Way Past
So we sit in that small but clean bukka; her eating, me watching her eat.
She eats like she enjoys what she’s eating – and from what I know of mama’s cooking, she must enjoy it. The food is international.
Her cute little pink tongue darts out, licking off a small dot of egusi lingering on one corner of her mouth. She realizes I’m staring at her – and shyly averts her eyes. I grin.
“You’re lovely,” I say.
She straightens – morsel of garri in her hand forgotten for the moment. She places her other hand in mine – her eyes never leaving mine for even a moment; and then she speaks.
“You know, I really like that you tell me that a lot. I hope you never get tired of saying it, because I doubt I’ll ever get tired of hearing it.”
For a moment, my heart rate soars. That old familiar fear rears its head.
But I swallow it down and hold her hand. This is good enough; I say to me.
This just has to be.