I had stepped outside to buy biscuit and a drink. I was bored and wanted munch on something. Trying to decide between wafers and cookies, a hand touched me, held a bit, and removed only when I stared the owner right in the face. It was a man. An older man, probably between his early to late thirties. Even without my asking him a thing (I just wanted his hands off me), he began to explain. How he had been trying to get my attention with calls of 'baby', 'omalicha', 'nne', and what-nots. He thought I didn't hear and finally held my hand, accompanying it with a greeting, just to get my attention.
I Do Not Want Your PITY.
I Do Not Want Your PITY.
I Do Not Want Your PITY.
I had stepped outside to buy biscuit and a drink. I was bored and wanted munch on something. Trying to decide between wafers and cookies, a hand touched me, held a bit, and removed only when I stared the owner right in the face. It was a man. An older man, probably between his early to late thirties. Even without my asking him a thing (I just wanted his hands off me), he began to explain. How he had been trying to get my attention with calls of 'baby', 'omalicha', 'nne', and what-nots. He thought I didn't hear and finally held my hand, accompanying it with a greeting, just to get my attention.