Jolade walked in the door, sadly. Her long flowing gown gave her a fallen angel’s look. Same wear, same facial mood.

The past night’s rain caused some havoc.

The news she had just heard, sent her literally into a world of anguish.

An old man she had often greeted, along with the young beautiful girl she had often seen attended to him, were found dead, earlier. The one-room apartment they stayed, got crumbled by the rain and alas, both happened to be in. The old man’s helpless face and his daughter feeble and frightened face was quite emotional. She guessed the girl would be within the age bracket of Sixteen-Eighteen. Rumours had it that she was the product of an illicit affair between the old man’ son and a street girl, some years ago. The old man had lost his son and had took solace in his grand-daughter but now, where were they!

A tear drop streamed down her cheek as an image of the girl when she was still alive, flowed into her head. She wondered how life could be so cruel. Someone who had lost his son already. He never could have known something else was in store.

The hope that would have hid in a little section of their hearts was the most cruel part of all.

The hope, the smallest but strongest organ must had nursed, she felt, was the ultimate pain. The hope that someone, something, somewhere could just materialise out of the blues and rescue them before it was too late was certainly the worst, really.

The kind of hope she nursed against Anabelle.
Life was just too cruel and unfair, too, she felt. Just what she felt was going on between she and Anabelle.

She broke down and sobbed out. Mother Nature might have heard her voice. The Birds that chattered away on a close tree, flew away in a flurry of flapping wings.

The sun shoned mildly and diligently. Its rays seemed not cruel enough to burn an albino’s skin.
A knock on her door, reached her ears. She scurried into the bathroom and rinsed off her face. She expected Paul.

“Come in,” she called, from the bathroom.

The door clicked, it indeed was Paul. Someone that might finally make her happy.

---

Hakeem sat nervously on one of the metal chair, that la!d expressionlessly and coldly in the hospital’s corridor. He had been sitting there for, probably a long time as he was getting irritated with each passing second. He was fed up of the patient that the doctor decided to entertain before him. She had spent almost an hour with the doctor. He wished he could go drag her out. There was nothing he could do, though. He just had to wait, hopingly.

He was getting fed up with the trudging in and out patients. The peculiar antiseptic smell that hospitals had been renowned for, was getting to him.

He felt like vommiting. The world was getting darker to him. Everything was getting blurred. Then, he wasn’t aspiring for a first class degree, he wished to be hale.

Cold stinging breeze gushed at his bare legs and he shivered. He blamed himself for putting on such wear. He should have worn a long trouser, instead.

He heard a door click and he raised his gaze, hoping it was the doctor’s. It was. The lady stepped out, dejectedly. She must have heard a bad news. She seemed like a ‘runs girl’ to him. Her thigh halted short exposed a lot.

Maybe she’s been diagonised with Aids, he thought.