Stories that remind you….of home.
Tag: Campus
Karimi goes quickly into her bedroom, pulls out the red dress mum bought for her for special occasions and wears it. She pairs it with a dainty little handbag that her aunty Ciku bought last Christmas. Caps her ensemble with a pair of shoes that goes Ka Ka Ka when she walks. Only then, can we go!
A love story, gone horribly wrong. A corpse, an older lover and the threat of jail.
She is on my bed. Her left leg is over mine and she is telling me she loves me. Yes, she has a boyfriend but it is me she loves. She will leave him. She just hasn't figured out how to do it. He is working in the big city. He sends her money every now and then. He doesn't ask for much. He only wants to see her once every month. I never ask what happens when she goes there. It is always the last Sunday of the month. He always sends her fare and some spare change in case she needs to buy something while traveling. Sometimes he calls her at night, when she is sleeping over at my place. He says her voice makes him sleep a little better. Just before he ends every call, he asks her.
For now though, he feels a new dialogue happening in his pants. One he particularly enjoys. She will feel it too. She will reach out to grab it. Gently at first then.... She will grab the back of his neck. His breathing will quicken. His ears will grow just a little bit hotter. She will stop kissing him. She will draw back. Look him straight in the eye, and say happily, I like you. She will kiss him again. And again. And again. A really small part of him will want to lift one leg up and lean into the kiss. Just a small part.....
We grew up watching the TV series Suits, Boston Legal and White Collar. So forgive us, if we thought our first jobs would be in swanky offices that smelt of new currency. Earning a salary north of Ksh. 50,000 which came with a girlfriend who called me every morning to tell me she loved me. Instead, I found myself in industrial area. Getting intimate with sacks of relief food at the UNICEF Warehouses.
I have always loved girls with smoky eyes. Not thick thighs, just the eyes. I never quite understood why. Perhaps its because my best friends ex had those sort of eyes. And I always wanted to bed her.
Hadithi Hadithi 