❝He built himself the perfect barricade, and she brought with her, the perfect demolition tool❞
Introverted, certified loner sᴏᴍᴀᴅɪɴᴀ ɪʙɪᴀᴍ, loves his space, minds his business and hates the human race (okay, that's a bit far-fetched). He finds sola...
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The sound of strokes on a canvas were the only sound heard in my room or maybe, my breathing, as I continued to carefully create the picture formed in my head.
Light brushes, dark blended with light strokes was beginning to bring life to the masterpiece I was creating.
It felt so good to turn irregular lines and marks into something worth looking at, the satisfaction that came with seeing people awestruck, amazed -- with jaws hanging open, as they take in the beauty borne of a man's fingers.
I guess I was addicted, probably because it was the only thing I never got bored of doing. I didn't have to engage in chit chats with it, didn't have to argue with it or listen to its opinion. I just had to let my fingers express whatever I felt.
I hated long conversations with people. Oh let's not even talk about nosy strangers -- they never get the memo.
I loved my space, it kept my mind on the right track. I mean c'mon y'all, solitude is gold, inner peace is heaven and so is everything that doesn't involve making a fuss.
"You drawing me honey?"
I didn't have to look up to know who it was.
I let out a sigh.
"Seriously Mum if I drew you everytime, wouldn't you be creeped out?" I looked up and just as I expected, Mum was dressed and ready for work.
A white pantsuit decently stuck to her body. She had on the perfect jewelry and make up, on her feet were zebra stripped deathtraps the female population called heels.
I sighed.
How does she even walk on them?
She set down the plate of cookies obviously made by Mrs Mary, on my bed.
"Nope," she replied, reaching for a cookie. "Won't be creeped out one bit. My son loves me, why should that be creepy?"
"You'll say that now... Off to work?"
"Hmmn." She hummed, picking another cookie before standing up.
"I better get out before I stuff myself." She spared a glance my way, worry lines creasing her perfectly made-up face.
Immediately, I knew what was coming next.
Venita Ibiam was one predictable woman.
"C'mon Soma, won't you atleast head out a little. Get some nice fresh air and mingle. Act like kids your age for once."
I groaned. Not today again. "Mum, I get fresh air everyday. How do you think I'm still living."
"But not the fresh sea air Somadina, its salty scent, and gentle caress..." She trailed off. "Teenagehood is once in a lifetime boy. You can't just damn the experience by getting couped up in this little space."
