I love you. My aww #3. The spy who loved me.

 Alone Again. But...

I find myself alone in my room once again. Alone again. 

Just like I was alone more than 24 hours ago, waiting in eager anticipation for him to pick me up. 

Now that he has delivered me back from what seems to be a delectable and delightful night and day, I am back again to being alone. I used to be happy being alone but not this time. 

Not now. Now I feel a certain emptiness. Like I was torn from a wholeness which I only briefly experienced for just over 24 hours. Now I can’t wait to see him again. It’s so strange. 

I have not experienced this feeling in a long time. At least not after such a short first encounter. 

Wait. It’s all happening so fast. Too fast. 

I’m trying to recall what happened while I float around my apartment packing for our trip tomorrow. 

Wait. How long am I packing for? It doesn’t matter I’m packing as much as I can. 

Wait. Where are we going? I don’t care. I just want to be with him, wherever he takes me. 

Wait. I haven’t said yes but he wasn’t rushing me. He wanted me to see the facility first and then he wanted me to take my time to decide. 

Wait. Am I walking into a trap? 

Wait. Wait! 

That’s what I have been doing all my life. Waiting. 

Now I am asking myself in all honesty. What am I waiting for? Haven’t I lived my life in pursuit of the unknown? For adventure?  Isn’t this what I have signed up for? 

Before I can even hear myself think, I find myself texting like an infatuated school girl on the phone with him again. 

At the end of the long night, I finally settled down to recalibrate my senses and my sense of mission. After clearing my head, I placed an encrypted call to Berlin to report my position. I received clearance and was cautioned to ensure our subject has not even the slightest hint of being under observation. I replied in the affirmative. They ended the communique by assigning me my next mission to Sri Lanka. But what about the Covid situation there? The line went dead. 

“It does look like your quest for adventure is unfolding fast young lady”, I told myself before I fall into much needed deep sleep, forgetting to brush my teeth, that night. 

To be continued.

A Love Story. Or is it?

Someone asked for a story.

Photo by Echo Wang on Unsplash

I remember now. the story I often tell when I was younger to gauge the core of the people I'm with. 

This is a love story about a boy and a girl who lives on the other side of the mountain. 

There's always a love story about a boy and a girl. Isn't there?

Well here it goes;

Once upon a time... a boy and a girl fell in love but they each live on the other side of the mountain separated by a raging river. 

One day the boy sends the girl a message pleading for her to come see him as quickly as she can. 

She rushes out the minute she receives his message. 

It's morning but alas the raging storm the night before has rendered all forms of travel to the other side of the mountain impossible. Save for a boat that could ford the raging waters driven by this boatman. 

She rush to him and offers to double his fare. But all he asks of her to take her across is to ride in his boat without her clothes. 

She refuses at first but reluctantly obliges desiring to be with her lover, the boatman ferries her across unharmed. 

Upon reaching the other side naked, she makes her way to his house a distance away. On the way she runs into a priest. Thank god, please father give me a cloth, a blanket or a shawl to cover myself so that I may run to see my lover. 

The priest hiss vileness and casts her as the devil in temptation refusing to help her. She with no choice runs into the forest to hide her shame while  looking for his house. 

She runs into a woodcutter instead. The strong virile woodcutter thinking god has answered his prayers promptly has his way with her. And boy did he have his way with her. 

She all bloodied, muddied and naked managed to run the last lap all the way to his house. 

Her boyfriend looks at her with displeasure, disdain and disbelief to the extent that he disowns and discards her. 

Heart broken the girl runs the final lap back to the river and jumps to her death. 

Sad ain't it?  

Question: Now rank in the order of blame, in order of appearance; 

the boatman, 

the priest, 

the woodcutter, 

the boyfriend. 

Who is the one most to blame?  Who is second? Third? 

I will deal with each one of you if you care to participate in the ranking of blame, in the order of your response. 

You decide.

Stay tuned. Literally.