The night was cold, very cold. It was a night she had wished that her husband would be home, both on the bed after their night shower; she, swallowed by his warm embrace, the breeze escaping his nose flooding her body with goose pimples as it tickled her, facing him and watching his lips moved as he professed his love for her. She would smile; her mouth arced into a half moon shape, the kind of smile that would make him call her, “Ụtụ m.”

She sat on the sofa, alone in the cold night, staring at a picture strapped in between her fingers. She saw the picture of her smiling self being suspended in the air, in the arms of her man. They were both smiling. She wore a white gown and he wore a black suit. It was on their wedding day. She smiled at those dimples punctuating his face. His dimples become well pronounced when he grins. It was this dimples that gave him that kind of innocent aura that tripped Nkemdirim (Nkem for short) the first day they met.

That day, Nkem had decided to go to the market from her work. She had granted her house maid a two days off from duty, and so had to do the cooking. She jostled herself through into the heart of the market; people brushing her roughly as they walked pass. The sky tainted gray while the silvery grayish light shimmered through. There were thick dust particles suspended in the air. She saw sellers, wielding a horse tail with which they used to dust off the brown dust that had coated their goods. She trudged along with the two heavy bags. She looked around wishing that she could catch a sight of Ebere coming towards her. Ebere was her best friend and she owns a big boutique in the market.

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The perfect description of Tigerclaw people

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