All love stories are the same, and it always begin with the girl..

I was in SSS2. She was my classmate, she was my friend, she was my neighbor. We argued every time, about almost everything.
One time, during break-time in the third term there had been an argument and I didn’t feel like walking home after school with her so I lied to her that the principal told me to see him after school hoping she would go home while I waited in one of the classroom. She knew I lied of course and had waited beside a kiosk outside the school gate, for three hours. I was shocked and embarrassed when I came outside and saw her standing beside the kiosk. I was already stuttering a lie but she smiled and said she knew the principal never asked me to see him, she knew I had waited back in class to avoid walking home with her. As we walked home, she informed me about her parents telling her to decide if she want to continue staying with her sister or return to Abuja. She told me she want so much to stay but something and someone is pushing her away so much she had to go. I asked if it was her sister, or her brother –in-law but she didn’t reply, she changed the topic instead. That evening, she asked “what is love”? I told her love has no real definition, it can easily be demonstrated than defined and even the demonstration of love sometimes doesn’t really make plain and comprehensible it’s true meaning. She had laughed so hard and called me the realist before going on to tell me her own definition of love. She said “love is a string of coincidences that draws together significances and becomes miracle. Like my sister giving birth this year, like me coming down to this place to stay with her, like me sitting here next to you”. Then she had added “it won’t mean anything to you anyway, you don’t believe in coincidence”. “I don’t believe in coincidence” I had replied, “There is a reason behind everything that happened in this life”. “If you don’t believe in coincidence, then you may never understand what love is” she said “How can you say that” I had snapped and that was the beginning of another argument. Not so long after was the day was when she gave me the note. She left before the term ended and she didn’t say goodbye.

A shadowless spirit kept the gate,
Blank and unchanging like the grave.
I, peering through said:
“let me have some flower buds to cheer my outcast state”
The spirit was silent,
He took mortar and stone and built a wall.
He left no loophole great or small,
Through which my straining eyes might look..

nice