Bo tucked the money into his wallet with a sigh.
Now he could give Celia an overdue treat. He wasn’t proud of the fact that he took to the hidden work of strutting and teasing a crowd of hooting women to earn money, but things have been financially rough for so long.
Maybe now he had a little extra, he could finish work on the vintage and put it up for sale.
Lipsticks, beer breath, perfumes and powder on cuffs…she saw them all.
Celia’s evidence against Bo reverberated in her mind as she threw her things into her bag.
He never had money to take her out, forgot her birthday two days ago, yet he had enough to booze up with other ladies and to work on the infernal vintage that he inherited from his uncle.
She knew he was up to some monkey affair with another lady, due to his dodgy, morose mood.
She chuckled in mirth at his imagined outrage when he see’s his beloved vintage where she parked it, but she would be far away.
She had painted it in patterns of the things she liked.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
Thank you, S.Writings for the photo and Priceless Joy for hosting this charming platform where we unleash our stories
When you buy my book, you support me in an invaluable manner.
Enchant me with your expressive eyes, that crinkles in laughter as you speak
that I may find myself ever caught between
the reflections of your pupils and there shall I remain.
*an excerpt of my poem*