Immediately the lecturer finished his three-hour lecturer, I was the third person to leave the classroom. I wanted to rush home and be on my way to the romantic weekend I'd been waiting for. I'd hardly even listened to the Philosophy lecturer as he prattled on and on about various Greek philosophers; my mind was on the person I wanted to meet—my sugar mummy.

I was at the door of our faculty building when Obinna, my roommate caught up with me. He knew that I had somewhere to go to, but he didn't know where. I was not going to tell him either. Obinna was one of those sanctimonious people who believed that every single thing would lead him to sin, and he pointedly avoided many things. Not that I am the worst sinner, but there are lifestyles that I see as living in bondage, and he was the ambassador of such a lifestyle.

"Okey, why are you in such a hurry?" he asked, holding my hand. "Have you forgotten they we have a group reading by 2pm today?"

I made a show of looking at my watch; there was no way I could afford not to see her today. Not after missing her for two months. And I'd totally forgotten about the group reading till I was leaving the classroom.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, man. I can't make it today. Remember I told you that I'll be going home this weekend?"

He looked betrayed but managed to nod. He then wished me a safe journey and headed towards the boys' hostel. That was another thing with Obinna—he had a way of making you feel guilty of almost everything you did. But I quickly removed him from my mind and jogged home.

Despite the fiery sun, I got home under three minutes, took the bag I'd packed in the morning and left. I called her once I was inside the bus and the sound of her soft, deep and silky voice sent my blood on fire; I instantly became hard and expertly used my bag to cover it, trying to think of other things—like how it all began with her.

She was my my mother's best friend; they went to the same secondary school and later were roommates in the university. Later she had gone to South Africa for her Masters degree and had lived there for twenty four years. I'd seen her once or twice when I was in primary and secondary school, but she was mostly over there with her husband. It was during the wave of the xenophobic attacks on Nigerians that she came back; she had lost her husband and barely escaped with her life.

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https://www.thezenpens.com/2020/02/04/just-a-number/