The human condition: The life of a ghost
I am in an eatery at Maryland. The song playing on the TV has some good vibes. I have never clubbed before but these days I want to. Curious. Or maybe not. I think it is more about escape. To forget many things. To be lost yet found in a crowd of dancing bodies. These days, I am afraid of aloneness. In front of me is a couple. They are speaking into their mouths. I can't hear what they are saying. I doubt they are listening with their ears. The movement of lips, their eyes locked into each other. It is damn psychic. On the face of the man beside me is nothing. He is staring at his phone. Nothing is here. Just wrinkles as wavy lines on his face. There's no more traffic outside. Just an empty street at the other side of the glass pane. Lagos feels unfamiliar without the crowd. The grounds are wet. The rains are here. It is night already. A pair of black legs walks in. On her shoulders is a big backpack. She's making conversation with the sales girl. Loudly. Without a care. She feels comfortable in this space. Maybe a regular. The man beside me is no longer alone. A younger lady has joined him. And they walk out together. Black legs leaves too. Couple in front of me stands up. His right hand is locked in her left. Fingers in between fingers. He adjusts her yellow hijab. They share seconds of light caresses before walking out. A waiter goes around gathering in a tray the leftovers on the tables. Another switches off the air conditioner and TV. They are laughing over a joke the sales girl said. Lights out. I hear the generator go off outside. The doors close. Departing footsteps. I am alone.
