Mark. Pot-bellied. Short (when you consider my height), with a Hippo kinda look. He had a huge crush on me – an unnerving, lust-filled desire. He was in love. And I didn’t even like him. I had no interest in him whatsoever.
Mark is a typical Igbo business man (if you know what I mean). He agitated me with the way he chatted and talked. And Mark, God love him, could like to call and talk nonsense! Tufia!
Anyway, I was aware he genuinely liked me. I’d used this a little to my advantage while he was still in the country (he’s out to look for a greener pasture). So, he was chatting me up on 2go one time; a time when I was in need of a better phone. (These times come often though, as I always find myself owning one palasa or another. :|). Continue reading