Prose

Death and a Minute.

I have a problem. I remember everything.

I recall the first conversation we had, when you were rattling about Mrs Giwa and how she overstated her importance to the company and how I did everything to stop rolling my eyes so much and failed, because you noticed and got offended but I wanted to get back to my job instead of listening to the new chic’s gist about someone she didn’t like.

Tramo company Ltd was our biggest client. There was no physical location that I knew of but there must have been , why else would they buy large quantities of furniture every two months?. The owner, Chief Anyawu was a big man both in size and pocket. I liked him because he gave me large tips every time he came , which unfortunately was not so many times. Last two months, I got 50,ooo naira; my two and a half months salary, from one person.On my birthday, he gave me his wristwatch, the brown one that had a black double because he didn’t have cash on him and I told him it was my birthday when he asked why i was looking extra beautiful. After work that day, I checked the price on google, 1.5million naira. Just like that. I liked that man so much I even started praying for more blessings for him. Good man.

You told me about the meeting with Chief Anyawu and how you succeeded in getting him to make more orders. For some reason, you kept mute as Mrs Giwa passed by my desk but I noticed she brushed against you ever so slightly. I noticed because there was more than enough space for her to walk by without having to come close, if you noticed you didn’t show it. After that day, I noticed many more things; how much less you badmouthed her, how you bought food for her when you went out for lunch, how more expensive your clothes started to look, how much more money the company was making.

The boss called me with his personal line and asked for details of how much Tramo had paid for the next supply we were to make. ‘10,000 dollars Sir’ I answered.

The next day I heard the raised voices and was surprised to see you storm out of the boss’s office yelling and Mrs Giwa unusually quiet. All i was hearing was how you didn’t need the ‘stupid salary’ and how you had done all they asked you to do and you had had enough and were quitting.

You called me later that evening to invite me out for lunch so I could help you plan your party and finally tell me what all the ruckus was about. Chief was using the account to keep the monies from his drug business. No furniture was actually being bought.  The Boss wanted you to get a recording of him admitting to this because the EFCC was on his neck to fish out his accomplices and get pardoned or have all his accounts frozen with jail time. The problem was you had already fallen in love with Chief and had been dating for a while, besides, he was a nice man.

Mrs Giwa never liked you, I heard her tell Boss the day you went to Chief Anyawu to solicit more business. I didn’t tell you but I never forgot.

‘Why are you looking sad, I’m doing well, I have enough money than I know what to do with’ you tell me as we crossed the road to where you parked. I heard it before I felt the bullet whiz past me and hit you in the chest.

I saw a hand at the backseat raise a phone to his ears. The hand had a wristwatch that cost 1.5 milion naira on it, exactly like the type I always carried in my handbag, even today. it was quick but that hand had stretched on my desk many times to drop large tips including a brown wristwatch that had a black double.

It’s been a long time and I no longer work there. I still feel bad when I remember that you didn’t have the chance to act fake surprised at the baby shower surprise party you were planning for yourself and now, you visit me every time, sometimes in dreams, sometimes in nightmares.

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