The girl with the bubble behind caught Manasseh in a web tough to untangle. It was at a beach party. From a distance, Manasseh watched as she twirled to the sound of music and was taken by her body’s grandeur. Her skin, sun-kissed as a blush, her soft brown smiling eyes and her long legs poking from pink shorts. After dancing, the girl took her seat and fanned herself. It was then that Manasseh sauntered over and knelt beneath her. Manasseh picked up one of the girl’s feet and massaged it; he kneaded the ball, stroked the arc and pulled out each toe gently without saying a word. After he was done Manasseh stretched out his hand and then asked her for a walk. The girl, with a surprised smile on her face, took it.
“I’m Manasseh, what’s your name?”
“Ibiang,” she said.
“It’s nice to meet you, Ibiang; do you have a boyfriend?” Manasseh asked, being frank. Ibiang’s laughter dragged into a dial tone, “Uhm, recently we broke up,” she said, and then changed the topic.
From the first date, Manasseh fell for the intimate comfort of being around Ibiang, her smile, her throaty laughter and the feeling of her lips when they kissed. It crept on, for weeks, until it was past the point of Manasseh thinking straight; at least not enough to know women also give love venomously.
The heat newly lovers feel for each other cooled. The obsession stopped, Ibiang became unpredictable and her actions dodgy. Manasseh became weary from a love that gamed; his friends chided, “You’re stuck in obtuse angles,” they said. Shortly, the façade of love and attention became evident and while on a date to resolve issues Ibiang cried terribly. “I’m sorry, but you were only for a while,” she said.