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Short Story: The Slip | By: Victor Olugbemiro

Saturday morning. Tranquil. Me, in bed. Lounging. Music in the background. Inhale. Exhale. This moment should be frozen. Savoured. My neighbour doesn’t think so. I open on the eighth knock. She knows I’m in. I see her lips move, her voice a meaningless echo in my head. It takes a while for some words to register.

I do not belabour my mind to connect them. Her voice drones on. Incessant. I’m getting antsy. Too polite to slam the door in her face, I nod in a way that suggests comprehension. She stops talking. I assume she’s done. As the door slams, the word ‘rude’ filters in. Too bad. I am half-way across the living room already.
Ah, music. Soothing. I drift to sleep. Short-lived though. Somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, I sense a presence. I open first one eye, then the other. Emem is smiling at me. She has a key. How come? I don’t return the smile.

‘You look cute in your sleep.’ I don’t reply. She wants something, as usual. I close my eyes in a vain attempt to sleep. Her lips touch mine. Soft. Intoxicating. I remember how she got the key.

The end is clear. She will leave with something I don’t want to give. I resign myself to fate. I cannot match her energy today. Physically. Mentally. She knows. Clothes rustle. She is topless now. My eyes remain shut. Images from the last time still linger.
There is a knock on the door. I open my eyes. She grabs my shirt and rushes out. I hear Chidinma’s voice. So much for tranquil. I dress up hurriedly. Grab my wallet. Toss my phone into the wardrobe. The high pitch of their voices has assumed alarming proportions. They don’t hear me slip out.

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Victor Olugbemiro loves literature, music and photography,
among several other interests. He currently teaches in Lagos .
Twitter: @oluvickie

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Are you a writer? Interested in sharing your short stories on this
platform? Be our guest on our Short Story Fridays segment.
Email: ololade.olatunji@yahoo/ gmail.com
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