Cigarette smoke curls in the cold air blasting from the split air-conditioner.  Temiloluwa is sitting with her back against the couch, a crumpled piece of paper on the floor beside her, a glass of wine and an ashtray heavily burdened not too far away. Sitting comfortably on the tiled floor a little distance from the dustbin, are several empty packs of cigarettes. Like someone tried to throw them in, missed and couldn't be bothered to put them in properly.


Earlier this week, she got to Dr Quadri's for the usual medical checkup. To be fair, she hadn't gone for one in a while. Five years to be precise. Business was booming.
She was finally a multi-billionaire. She breezed into the good doctor's office and took a seat. Even though she hadn't been there in a while, she kept in touch, and a strong friendship had developed between them.


"Good afternoon sir. I want to do a complete set of tests." She was about to retire from the "work" she was doing and wanted to leave with  a clean slate. She wanted to get married, get pregnant, raise her own kids with a loving husband. Just like her mother did before her. And she had enough money to keep the family in comfort, even if her husband couldn't.  Despite all she had seen and done, she was still Temiloluwa at heart, the village girl with simple dreams. Just in a more sophisticated package.


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