Microfiction: Waiting for a Miracle

I opened the door, heard a sharp feminine shrill and slammed it shut. I had been so carried away with my distraught at not chatting with Monica that I had not bothered to knock. After the shock of what I had just seen—a naked Kike straddling Bunmi—I heard scrambling in the room and I could imagine it was Kike hurrying into her clothes. I could imagine Bunmi’s frustration and I felt the guilt of a killjoy and the demented delight of a voyeur. I tried to re-imagine what I had just seen but the poorly illuminated room had saved the day. I strained my thoughts to retrieve an audacious repose of Kike’s pert breasts but all I could conjure was the shrill that escaped her mouth.

The door opened and Bunmi came out in his musky boxer shorts. It had been three weeks since he last washed them.

“Na wa for you o”, he said.

“I’m sorry I should have knocked. They have closed down C.C cybercafé too”

He pulled a chair and sat outside. He clearly did not welcome the news of the cybercafé closure. It meant many things to us. It was a colossal disappointment. Our formats were maturing with a good sense of promise and our portals had been closed before us. He sighed.

“Wettin we go come do now about Monica now?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we wait?”

“Wait? For what to happen?”

“A miracle will happen”

“You and this miracle sha. If you were a Christian now and I would say yes you know what you are saying.”

“Don’t worry my brother, tell it to Jesus”, I walked into the toilet just in time to hear Bunmi call me the master of shit.