Instead, he gets up, and in that moment, Makafui notices his plump figure and flat body with no outstanding features exactly, except for his long legs and fast-forming pot belly. She imagines he’d make a good runner, if fortunate enough, to still be in his younger years–now he looks like he’d be in his early forties.

The bright orange shirt he is wearing fits him–it is not so tight and not so loose either. It is well tucked into his black trousers and the colour complements his complexion rather perfectly, she thinks to herself, as he comes to rest the tip of his buttocks on the desk that separates them, touching the floor with one leg and leaving the other, dangling in the air, swaying back and forth.

She is startled, but only for a brief moment, and then poises herself.

“It’s his office after all, and he can choose to conduct the interview from wherever he deems suitable, regardless of how unprofessional it may seem,” she says in her mind.

He leans forward slightly, with his head lowered and bent over, he peers into her eyes, like someone in search of some long lost treasure of his. She sits still and is quiet, not quite knowing what to make of his moves.

He smiles, nonchalantly, and says to her, “You are very beautiful.”

She doesn’t respond. She isn’t sure what to say. She wonders, if she is in the right room, or perhaps in her haste, had she gone to the wrong floor and joined the wrong queue?

“What are you thinking about so hard?” he asks, his voice interrupting her thoughts.

“Nothing, nothing at all sir,” she says.

He gets up from the desk, moves slowly in a circular manner, finally coming to rest behind her. He places his hand on her chair, she remains uncomfortably seated, still poise and calm, wondering if truly, she is in the right interview room.

“Would you like to see some of the additional documents I brought, sir?” she asks.

Maybe he has forgotten that she is here for the interview, so she sought to remind him by saying that. He laughs and tells her he has seen enough of her academic capabilities, and that he doesn’t need more proof of that.

“I can even give you this job without any of that anyway,” he says.

“I’m sorry sir?” Makafui says with a stunned look on her face.

“Oh yes, you don’t even have to be that qualified, you know,” he says, half grinning behind her.

And before she can ask him what he means by that statement, he reaches out from behind, slips his hand into her blouse and gropes her breast–the right one. He squeezes it gently, as if he risks squashing it, if he squeezes any harder and pulls back his hand, as swiftly as he put it there.

Makafui is mortified. She is still seated, with her back straight, her shoulders very stiff, her whole body, motionless and her face, expressionless. Her stomach rumbles. She can feel her heartbeat accelerating, with each thud–thud she hears within her chest, as her heart starts to beat very fast. She cannot think of anything. She is not even sure if her brain is still functioning. She stands from the chair, as if by default, and remains standing with her back to him. She doesn’t turn around. In fact, she doesn’t know why she is standing.

Makafui sees him from the corners of her eyes, as he walks back to face her directly. This time, he leans against the desk with his back, exactly where he had been, few minutes ago.

“You liked it,” she hears.

She averts her gaze from the lifeless wall–now to him.

“You liked it, didn’t you?” he repeats, as though he is expecting an answer of a sort from her.

Her legs are frail, she might fall back on the chair if she doesn’t hold onto something, anything. She wishes her hands wouldn’t lie by her side so uselessly. She looks at him, and sees the taunting smirk on his face.

Wait! “What is that look?”

Is he proud of an achievement or is he just enjoying every moment of this?

He inches closer, his hand moving less swiftly than it had, before. He reaches out to touch her breast again. She doesn’t know how, but she finds herself reaching out, grasping his hand halfway. She sees shock spread across his puffy face–or so she thinks she sees–as she flings his hand back at him, more vigorously than she intends to, that it hits his built chest, heavily. She cringes at the sound it makes, but still manages to stare him in the eyes, undauntedly, waiting for what next he would do.

The fear and rage she feels inside are both crippling and keeping her on her feet simultaneously, in a way even she herself cannot fathom. She hears him laugh, an unexpected laughter, shrouded in bits of mockery and sheer gloat. She is appalled that he finds the atrocious behaviour he just exhibited toward her, funny enough to deserve a good laugh.

Is she a joke to him?

She can feel more anger welling up inside her. She has to stop herself, because she knows what she is capable of, if her fury grows out of proportion. She feels insulted and taken for granted but, she also knows she has to keep her composure. She doesn’t speak, neither does she take her cursing gaze off of him.

“Women, you are funny creatures you know, always pretending to be mad, when you actually like something. If only you people will just be straightforward, how much simpler the world would be.” he says amid sporadic laughter; an air of oblivious confidence surrounding his speech.

Makafui is perplexed.

“What in the world is this lunatic going on about?,” she thinks, trying to reconcile the situation with the gibberish he just spewed.


Heya lovely readers,

Hope you enjoyed today’s read. Do let me know what you think in the comments section below. Also, don’t forget to like,share and subscribe if you haven’t already🤗 .

The story continues next Friday……stay hooked👌

Love❤

Liz.