LETTER: CONFESSIONS TO MY EX (part 1)

Yes. I do miss you.

I know we had the most peaceful break up ever. You decided that cliff had a heavier chest than me and I agreed Tierra had the height I yearned for. I’m not saying you are short but we all know you reached me at the waist.

You know, I still love how God was creative with you. He compressed all your height and patched it on your hips, took a little soil from your chest and enhanced the backyard. But that is not what this letter is intended for, easy.

I still reminisce on the good times we had together, the best moments we shared, and the memories we glued on our past.

How we met each other is something I don’t want to forget at all. It was raining. Quite heavily. You had taken shade at the Mpesa shop, shivering, with a worried look on you. I crammed myself next to you just so I could take shade too. You had that pink blouse on. It had gathered wetness to a point of exposing the secrets of your dear braless bossom. Your black tights were wet as well. I mean, you were all wet. (I can already hear the thoughts of bad boys and naughty gyals at the back, easy mahn, it was the rain.)

I made the move. I took off my bomber jacket and like a gentleman, engulfed it’s warmth on you. I felt you wanted, no, needed that. Long story short, you gave me a wrong number and disappeared with my jacket.

I met you weeks later, at Tom Mboya street, right there next to Mr price. You seemed like you were waiting for someone. You couldn’t even remember me. The moment I said, “sasa” you had already given me that harsh look. The harsh look that you give to ‘suspected’ conmen when they approach you in town pretending to have lost direction.

I had to narrate the whole story, like am doing now. And when you recollected, the vibe was on. This time, you gave me the correct number, which I confirmed it’s yours (by calling to see if your phone would ring) before departing.

Days rolled by. You had the perfect way of chatting, or was it the correct grammar and punctuation that I liked. I bet my bottom dollar it was your speed in replies. You never gave me a chance to entertain other girls in my chat list. You had hooked all my attention to your inbox, the same way I had tattooed my feelings on your heart. It was in the air already, yes that young love.

Night calls were like the ten commandments, we obeyed them without fail. You had the right voice for the words you said. I had the right promises for the money I lacked. The night call conversations were long. I switched positions every time. I’d be on my stomach while I tell you how my day was, then switch to looking at the ceiling as you sing me your favourite song. Sometimes I preferred standing on my one leg so that I don’t sleep while on the call. Shit was amazing.

…TO BE CONTINUED