Okoroafor Chike
03-17-2010, 01:20 PM
The man presumably of british decent continued, though amazed too, "We're hoping you gents could direct up to the the trade-fare cen-"
"You made this?" The woman interrupted.
"Yes," I replied, almost in a whisper.
"Who is she? She's very pretty," the white lady pitched with admiration.
Mr. Adebanjo who felt elated, quickly became boastful in between his words,"She's my daughter ooh. My only daughter."
"I'm Lisa and he...," the white lady's hand freely found her companion, "...is Daniel. We both work for the Vogue magazine. We're wondering if the trade-fare could offer us some special treat. But..."
She politely asked that they may see Mr. Adebanjo's daughter. Without any hard time granting them their request, Mr. Adebanjo left our workshop with them.
Neither my uncle nor I said a word again. Uncle Uche only returned to his seat, completely thrilled. I began to clean the workshop with the taste of a strange tonic in my mouth which shot hot loads of uninterpreted feelings into my head.
Moments later, I heard the thumping of running feet on the floor. In the bid to align myself with the incoming sound I was met with a strong embrace. It was her. The lady who was once in a green gown. Without a word, I presumed she was Bola. Her eyes took mine happily.
"Thank you for making my modelling dream come true!" She screamed.
My thoughts were already melting away for many impressive reasons, eating out quickly the amounts of words that formed within me. At her words, stiffness plagued my tongue. I was totally surprised.
She took my hands in hers and said," I'm going to London with you!"
My uncle then sprang to his feet joyfully, "What?!"
Lisa, Daniel and Mr. Adebanjo were already standing at the door now. " We want you both on the front page of our Vogue-Africa launch edition," Lisa happily remarked retaining the bright spark in her eyes.
The End.
"You made this?" The woman interrupted.
"Yes," I replied, almost in a whisper.
"Who is she? She's very pretty," the white lady pitched with admiration.
Mr. Adebanjo who felt elated, quickly became boastful in between his words,"She's my daughter ooh. My only daughter."
"I'm Lisa and he...," the white lady's hand freely found her companion, "...is Daniel. We both work for the Vogue magazine. We're wondering if the trade-fare could offer us some special treat. But..."
She politely asked that they may see Mr. Adebanjo's daughter. Without any hard time granting them their request, Mr. Adebanjo left our workshop with them.
Neither my uncle nor I said a word again. Uncle Uche only returned to his seat, completely thrilled. I began to clean the workshop with the taste of a strange tonic in my mouth which shot hot loads of uninterpreted feelings into my head.
Moments later, I heard the thumping of running feet on the floor. In the bid to align myself with the incoming sound I was met with a strong embrace. It was her. The lady who was once in a green gown. Without a word, I presumed she was Bola. Her eyes took mine happily.
"Thank you for making my modelling dream come true!" She screamed.
My thoughts were already melting away for many impressive reasons, eating out quickly the amounts of words that formed within me. At her words, stiffness plagued my tongue. I was totally surprised.
She took my hands in hers and said," I'm going to London with you!"
My uncle then sprang to his feet joyfully, "What?!"
Lisa, Daniel and Mr. Adebanjo were already standing at the door now. " We want you both on the front page of our Vogue-Africa launch edition," Lisa happily remarked retaining the bright spark in her eyes.
The End.