THE MAN ON WHITE WHO DROVE A WHITE CAR

It was not too long ago that I met "The man on white who drove a white car". He looked good, about 6.2 ft tall, slim and dark. Quit a catch not 100% of the spec but hot enough to be called hot melanin, a chocolate temptation. You see this man, "The man on white who drove a white car", he has a very cute smile, the kind that brightens every heat of anger or sadness that the day might have built up in your mind. Yes, I know this because the day before I bumped into "The man on white who drove a white car" at Agura, I was in a place where a good old fellow of mine referred to as depression, it was a place where I get to discover the valley of shifting whispering sands.

You see sometimes for days and weeks I wonder aimless in this valley, seeking answers to the many questions that raced through my fabled mind. Then that beautiful morning, time was faithful to me that morning for "The man on white who drove a white car" was just coming out from Agura where he parked as I was just passing by. I offered to help carry some of his bag, for that was the respectful and least awkward thing I can do as we race forward like we were about to miss the morning train, he gave me one of those cute smiles I talked about, then I told him once again that the smile looks good on him.

Now, let me take you days back, to the first day I got a dosage of this cute smile. It was at the alleyways of the first floor. Yes, I work in same place with "The man on white who drove a white car" and I'm not one for office romance but his smile sure did more than any creed to make me smile back that day, he did it without a touch, without a word, without a sign, he did it by just being himself. We passed and both turned back simultaneously to look at each other while i asked " good day?" well I'm sure he felt that zing too for he started coming to my office more often than usual. more usual that I started romanticizing with his face, for the moon never beams without bringing me the dreams of "The man on white who drove a white car" and the starts never raise but I feel the brightness of the teeth of "The man on White who drove a white car".

We went on and on until it all came tumbling down. I'm not sure what I did wrong, but I only knew that "I was bleeding in his silence, but I feel safer in his violence." These comments meant nothing to him since he fed me so much silence that I misunderstood it for hatred, I mean, who wouldn't? I can still feel the rush of blood through my veins, the increase in my heartbeat, the lightness in my brain, the rapid pulse, and the cold and sweaty feeling in my hand before my phone fell from my grip and broke because I was on the message that reads "it is assumed that what happened today at the office did not happen." Yes, I did go to his office as usual to plead, but this time I went with an acquaintance and tried to give him a hug afterward. “THE MAN ON WHITE WHO DROVE A WHITE CAR” You see, it's the forest where the silence is at ease, and it's the beauty that fills me with wonderment. It's also the serenity that gives me peace. Because I am finally at ease.

By: Chukwunelo Nmesoma