Co-Shared (4)

When you were twenty-three, you 'still' hadn't dated, and you were so worried, convinced your life was the saddest story ever, and now you wish you never worried at all, you wish you would have told yourself that you had a whole life ahead of you. Wait, are you writing Tatiana's Gala, already? That's a tad too early, there's a lot to talk about.

Kev had told you recently how he admired your creative prowess, and how you made magic with words, and you had blushed because you honestly never thought you'd receive such compliment, you also swiftly changed discussion, because compliments made you nervous.

"You are smart." 

"Oh, thanks, what's the colour of your best friend's favourite dress?"

"Your hair is beautiful."

"Is it? When did your grandmother die?"

How many times had you responded awkwardly to people who complimented you or your work? Why did these compliments make you jittery? Well, as you progress, you'd dare to unravel these.

Tatiana, the girl who hates science, particularly chemistry, who loves rings, and colour brown, and chocolates, and shorts, and dresses, and storytelling.

It's 4:30 a.m on a Monday morning, you have to get up and go to work, is that not what being an adult is all about? Work, work, and work until you cannot work anymore? You reluctantly get up from your barely laid bed and heat some water for a bath in the electric kettle. You decided a few weeks ago to "always lay your bed neatly every morning" because you realized how relaxing it is to come home to a beautifully laid bed. You had started off well the first week, laying your bed and even sweeping every day, but continuity has always been an enormous challenge. Thing is, you hardly completed anything you started, no matter how hard you pushed yourself. As you lather your sponge, you sing in your awry voice, another thing you should know about Tatiana is that she cannot sing to save her life, but she sings anyway. She dances awkwardly, but she dances, anyway. 

Breakfast is your leftover jollof rice from last night, one you had cooked hastily, yet it turned out fine (according to you, and well, who cares?). Anyone who had ever tasted what you had cooked never came back a second time, but the truth is you loathe cooking, so no hard feelings. When you started a relationship with Priye (why have you not mentioned Priye, your one true, love?) you bought three premature catfishes from a fish farmer who happily charged you exorbitantly, as he could tell how inexperienced you were. You prepared what you called catfish pepper soup for Priye, who could not hide how disappointed he was with your concoction. He ate only the fish, while your pepper soup went down the drain. 

It's 6:50 a.m, and you are set for work, so you put on your smelly black flat shoes and head out. A quick story on your smelly shoes is that they smell because you wear them, every time. You own ten other shoes at the least, but your black shoes hold a special place in your heart. Why? You'd tell the story, but you need to hurry off now...