Knightsbane ♘

✡ Dawn of Havoc ⚔

      "Mama, I'll call you later..."
He scrabbled his way out of the painted taxi in a clumsy composure and started for the immense glass tower that stretched into the heavens.

He was half dressed, barely prepared for the meeting with a rugged suit, strangled in his armpits, a sagging pair of trousers that seemed a bit too quay with a loose belt around his waist, and a rumpled old shirt that seemed to scare away the gasping bystanders.
      "Shut your traps," he muttered to himself while shoving through the clustered sidewalk of murmuring people.
       One hand held up his iPhone on his left ear while the other held a silver briefcase, stiffened by the clutching of his hardworking armpit. He was messed up, haggard and very clumsy looking.
      "Mama...please I said I'll call you later na..." the young man blurted, in a plea of frustration that revealed a ridiculous Nigerian accent. A squeaky voice shrieked from the phone's speaker,
      "N'wam (My son), Hope you will visit me today."
The young man hopped on one foot all the way to the elevator, forcing the other foot into a dusty old shoe with his busy hands.
    "Surely, Mama. Immediately... after work, I'll drop in," he stammered. His new job had him nervous yet the consciousness of Mother's love kept him strong and hopeful.
    "Chei iya ohh (It is a pity). Bring home some bread oh. Ahh, my boy, I'm making okazi soup with ground egusi and ice fish and...Chei! Just the way you like it."
      "Mama, I'm so sorry, I have to go...wait...did you say okazi soup?" a stupid grin brightened up the man's face.
     "Hey hey hey! Your sister is already in the market. Would you believe they sell okazi in London?"
     "What? You don't mean it, Ma. At last we can have a little Nigerian feeling around here."
     "Yes ooh."
The doors of the elevator shut.
     "Mama, please ehn, I have to go. See you later, I love you."
The doors of the elevator sluggardly slid open at the topmost floor, a charming young man full of grace and elegance gently stepped out. It wasn't the same man who had gone in...couldn't be. His dark eyes glossed like onyx, his low cut hair, revealing a symmetry of waves was neatly brushed. His clear light brown skin glowed like a chocolate bar under the halogen light, laying emphasis on his big pointed nose. That old rumpled shirt had somehow transformed into an expensive looking customized fit, as though a dry cleaner had hidden somewhere within the shadows of the elevator. A grey tie had appeared on his neck, knotted up to perfection. The grey double breasted suit no longer hid behind the confines of his arm pit but posed confidently on the young man, neatly, dashingly. A body fit, his arrogant biceps bulged out, in some way sensual, they could not be hid, the suit couldn't take all the glory. The sagging trousers clung to their masters waist, neatly pressed, the gators so sharp, they could slice one's fingers off. And the dust on the shoes had cleared, unveiling the eye catching symbol of the prestigious Dolce and Gabanna products.