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OLU

  he was walking towards me flashing a smile. my heart stopped, not because of how devastatingly handsome he was but because he looked so much like Olu. everything from his 6 feet-something height to the i'm-distressed-beard was similar to Olu's.

   finally stopping in front of the booth i was sitting still smiling, he extended his right hand,"Oluola Gbemu. Head Marketing Manager AT and T" you must be Miss Adeja?.

    impossible. how could i be meeting Olu again after all that had happened and why did he seem not to recognize me. "y_ yee_yeh_yees i'm Miss Ah_Ade" i stammered"

    this is crazy. Olu died last month. how could he possibly be sitting in front of me right now reintroducing himself like we were meeting for the first time. i knew this was Olu, my handsome fish, my sugarcane plum, my dead fiancee.

    the eyes, the fine lines on his forehead, his red palms, even the black spots on his face, just under his nostrils were exactly how i remembered them.

   he had been talking the whole time but it was like pouring water into sieve: i was miles away deep in thought trying to figure out how this was possible.

these things only happened in overrated science fiction movies and novels. i had heard of similar occurrences from hostel gossip back in uni, how ghosts could come back to live for loved ones or how they migrated to another town entirely and lived normal lives.

in all cases of those stories the ghosts only went to people and places unaware of their deaths. those silly stories, even if they were true always cracked me up.

even if like now as i was shaken and could digest that gossipy myth, my dead fiancee knew very much i was aware of his death so how could he possibly be sitting in front of me like this and be completely unaware of how shaken i am? reintroducing himself like we were just meeting for the first time. sitting there calmly like he always was when meeting someone for the first time.

by now i had no duobts it was him, this was Olu quite alright. but how to tell this man that in some dimension or world we were once engaged for marriage and that he died in my arms on the hospital bed after we were involved in an accident on our way to Obudu Cattle Ranch for a getaway.

my mind was still racing as i also realized i was suddenly infuriated. how could he have left me all these weeks? if he could come back from the land of the dead or heaven all this while why didn't he do so sooner?

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need balance

there's some beauty in darkness:
something interesting about
the way the air would heavily light
an irony of perfect juxtaposition. there's some beauty in ugly:
something intriguing about the
huge grotesque scars that
seem to never want to go away. there's some beauty in evil:
un peu de la purité in
the heart of a condemned man,
an innocence buried beneath a blanket of
bottled up emotions. these little beauties we
choose to neglect
aren't they the very things that
make living bearable? who would be good without the existence
of evil?
who would be beautiful without ugliness?
or what story could ever be told without scars? need beauty and ugliness,
need scars and healing oils,
need good and evil,
need all the balance to remain
steady and sane in this
crazy crazy world. need balance:
then imbalance to
balance the human equation
now and again.