By Bunmi Oke
“22, 22, 22…” Erect posture, clean-shaven face, well-manicured, nails and suited up in a spot-on pinstripe grey suit, nothing calls his sanity into question–except for the numbers he keeps muttering to himself like some mantra: “22, 22…”
When a curious and officious pedestrian challenges him he sidesteps but to no avail. A stalemate of sorts. Only that when the challenger persists, drawing closer, too dangerously close, three spontaneous holes adorn his back. No one in the park has to teach the others how to take flight.
The mutterer tucks the smoking gun away, buttons up and resumes count; “23, 23…”
This is awesome! I love twist endings especially when done with so few words. Great story! 🙂
Thanks so much for the pleasant words, Patience.
Thanks very much for the pleasant words, Patience.
Now, we know what he’s been counting. Lol.
I like the story – Spot on.
Haha. I’m grateful for the comment, Tolulope.
Nice one Bunmi. You just hit it! My favourite.
Much thanks Miki. I appreciate the love, bro.
This is awesome! Loved it!
Aw, much thanks, Firdaus Parvez.