He ground to a halt.
‘What did you say?’
He’d heard what I said. Even as he turned to look at me in the eyes, I saw his chest rise differently. He said it again. Closing the steps between us. By the time he said ‘say’, I knew about the cabbages he’d eaten for breakfast.
‘He said you were the youngest in class. And because of that, your opinion didn’t matter. ‘
There was no use mincing the truth. I knew my brother too well. He may have been younger, but I’d fallen victim to his particularly athletic gift one time too many.
And I know better than to coat the chip on his shoulder.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was hot. We all were. The classic leitmotif before Yaoundé’s mocking rains.
‘What did you tell him? ‘
‘You heard me, big brother. What did you tell him? ‘
He wasn’t looking at my face the first time he asked. But he did again, leaning on the balcony, his back to the city. He was calm. Too calm. I had a feeling he was enjoying this interrogation. He knew I couldn’t escape. His smirk betrayed him.
Then again, knowing who he was, he must have realized there was more to my account. That I wanted to share something he’d enjoy. He was right.
‘How do you think I bruised my knuckles? ‘
His grin, priceless.
Did you like? Then you might want to head to my Instagram. I take pictures using the LG G4 I got from my buddy Daniel’s startup. Not only does he give amazing advice when it comes to mobile devices, but he’s the most honest technician I know. Disclaimer: I run his Facebook Page.
So…where was I…
Yes! I take pictures and I write
very short stories based on them. I intend to make a picture story book out of them or maybe develop some of the stories into a collection. What do you think?