Unedited chap but have at it anyways ;)
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Eight years ago, 2012
Mosọpẹ was feeling surly again that morning, a scowl permanently etched on his face.
His day had got off to a bad start, like always. So there was not much difference from the usual. He'd had another screaming match with his parents that morning. But that wasn't out of the ordinary.
If he thought that they didn't pay him more attention when he was younger, the tides had changed. He was the problem child now. And he didn't know whether that was particularly a good thing.
He sat, slumped over his desk. His work at Omowole Engineering paid well enough and was the reason for his fat bank account, but it was just so monotonous! Maybe he'd have valued the job more, had it not been that his father had arranged for it and handed it to him on a platter of gold.
He hated the job, just like he hated his life, family, virtually everything and everyone. Except from Grandma Mae of course. He could never ever hate her.
He stole a glance at the giant wall clock on the boring cream walls of the office. 10:55am. He groaned in protest. He still had quite a long while to go.
He just wanted to lose himself in the unfinished painting waiting for him in his room at the mansion.
But sadly, that wasn't happening any time soon. At least, not till four o'clock when he would be free to leave work.
Do not be mistaken, he was very good at his job, but he hated it still. Doing something he did not love just pulled him deeper into the pool of self loathing and pity.
The rustle of papers as he laid his head on the table reminded him that there was work to be done. The longer he put it off, the more daunting it would be. This made him get to work that same moment.
He lost himself in the mindless task of sorting paperwork and only jolted when his alarm clock went off, signifying the start of his lunch break.
He got up and stretched himself like a cat would; feeling all his blood circulation entirely concentrated in his legs due to sitting for too long.
He kissed his teeth in irritation. He hated having pajapaja, where the concentration of blood in one part of the body would cause it to be stiff and crampy.
He stood, unsteady, as he waited for the sensation to pass.
As soon as he could move his limbs comfortably, he swung the door open and stepped out of the stuffy office.
He was going to eat at Iya Moria's abula spot that day. He could imagine the hot, criminally soft amala and the delicious mixture of the gbegiri and ewedu with red stew. His stomach rumbled furiously just from thinking about the delicacy.
He patted his stomach half-heartedly and whistled a tune from where he couldn't remember. In spite of all his issues, he was still a foodie through and through. Especially with local Nigerian dishes.
The collision of his body with another abruptly snapped him from his food fantasy. He instinctively caught the slender body before it hit the ground.
The female he had crashed into had a startled expression. He quickly set her back on her feet, before holding her in the office lobby would be considered as wholly inappropriate.
YOU ARE READING
The Bridge|| Completed✓
General Fiction"Can I help you ma?" He asked. His voice was scratchy and low and his tone rang out as sarcastic. "What do you mean by 'Can I help you ma?'" she asked him in incredulity. "I said what I said. Now what exactly is your problem?" He asked, obviously no...
