On Chat. Christmas Eve.
Me: Hey Darling. I just got off the phone with your Dad.
Him: LOL. And how did it go?
Me: Surprisingly, ’twas easier than I thought. Was a lil’ scared at first, you know, talking to him for the first time.
Him: Told you you’d be fine. He wouldn’t bite.
Me: Hehehe. Thanks, Dear.
Him: Pleasure. So what do you want for yuletide, Baby?
Me: Hmm… dunno. Honestly, I feel it isn’t so much the gift as the gesture. Anything would do fine, Honey.
PS: Lest I forget, please send me your Mom’s digits.
Him: Uhm… *shrugs* Anything for you, Baby.
A knock on my door. It is a parcel. With a note on the box.
“As you requested. Sorry about the ice, wanted it to remain fresh. Merry Xmas. xoxo.”
It is his mom’s digits—all twenty of them.
© Bunmi Oke
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
A short attention span and a slow reading pace make Bunmi Oke’s helpless affair with micro fiction less of a surprise. His works can be found on Microbookends, 81words, Drablr, 101words etc, while a tiny piece comes out in print in Boston Literary Magazine June 15, 2015.
Oftentimes, he is seen furiously typing away on a smartphone—often mistaken for an addiction to chat. If only folks knew what muse does to you unless you give it expression.
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