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Sina...

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Imekuwa long tangu nichonge story ka venye Michelangelo alikuwa anachonga vitu clean many centuries ago. Story ilikuwa iende live but draft ilikuwa kwa simu, na simu ilizama kwa maji ka Petero venye alijishuku ati ni yeye anatembea kwa maji. Fundi naye kumpelekea simu akakuwa kama ule jamaa wa promises bandia za in “6 months”. Fundi amekaa nayo almost three weeks, ananichocha daily ati anaunda, kumbe anani-enjoy tu, simu imemlemea na hataki kunichapia.  Kuishi bila simu blunder, unasikia ni uko kwa kichaka ama ka wewe ni inmate. Nimefikiria venye shillingi itatoka nishike device ingine; itatoka ju fundi alishindwa kufufua simu hadi akili imetap out. Nikiscroll scroll YouTube nikiwa nimetulia after nimetoka kuchapiana na Boyz wangu Kimani ma one two one two, nimebump into this song called Wasted Story by Virusi Mbaya, sijui ni kama ni coincidence ama nini,  but nimerelate nayo mbaya sana na kuna part moja imepenya  “…Saka kila siku it's not enough..” “...Ma...
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Weak spot.

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          Something just popped into my mind, that made me chuckle just a bit. No, it's not the fact that Manchester lost, and they way their fans were hyped that they would win the game. There is a particular screenshot I saw somewhere, while I was scrolling maybe on X (Twitter), or on someone's WhatsApp status. Let me paint for you like I'm Leonardo Da Vinci, on how the conversation was.  It all started out with the usual nitty gritties, asking about each other's day, the lady asked what someone's son has been upto.  Someone's daughter was eagerly beseeching someone's son to come over to her place as soon as the guy told her, he was just chilling.  I saw that conversation, and was impressed by the sheer amount of effort she was applying. She goes ahead and invites the guy over, the guy at first says he does not have fare, the lady even offers to send him fare, the guy says he will come the following day, the lady offers a movie night, the guy cl...
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Cold one 2

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               There was a rustle inside. The water had stopped. She opened the bathroom door slightly, peeking out.  “What do you mean?” I looked her in the eyes, and this time, my expression was different. The shadows under the bulb gave my face a subtle weight, like the memory I was about to share had never quite let me go. “The last time kuwa na water heater,    design ilinilima ka ghasia venye nilienda kuzima maji after nimemaliza ku shower nilijipanguza maji nikalala the whole day ju ya kuboeka.” Her hand gripped the doorframe tighter. I chuckled, but it was dry, not amused — grateful. The bathroom door opened fully now. She stood wrapped in a towel, her expression unreadable but softened. “Souley,” she said, voice quieter now,  “why didn’t you just tell me that from the start?” I smiled faintly, stepping to her.  “Some scars don’t talk, unless,  someone listens long enough.” She leaned against the doorframe, th...
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Cold one

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                 I wasn't sure of how I was going to put this, but here goes. To be honest, I wasn't a big fan of cold showers, but there's a certain encounter that I experienced, changed my perception of it completely. I had almost forgotten about it, till a few weeks past, when someone's daughter mentioned something that made the memories come rushing like soldiers rushing out to battle.  I had been chilling with someone's daughter some weekend, doing some activities here and there, if you know you know, if you don't, forget about it. Hehe. Moments later, as I was scrolling through my phone, I heard her padding softly across the tiled floor — barefoot, towel wrapped carelessly around her, and she had this hint of mischief on her eyes. “Unajua,”  she said, voice mellow,  “showers feel better when shared.” I faced her slowly, not startled — just absorbing the weight of her invitation. She wasn’t smiling. That made it feel less ...
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