1 Insanity

"Hey there," A voice rang out in the softly lit room, a hidden alcove within the sprawling restaurant. This establishment stood out for the comfort and privacy it offered, yet Chimsy had chosen an even more secluded corner for their meeting, a corner far from prying eyes.

She turned towards the voice and froze as she laid eyes on the person who had spoken.

In her mind, she silently whispered, "K-cee," but the words never found their way out.

It was meant to be a greeting, but it hung in the air, suffocating the moment with awkwardness.

The awkwardness wasn't the only sensation coursing through her, though. As she struggled with what to say, a deeper feeling stirred within her.

Something about him had changed; he appeared more polished, tidier, and remarkably put together compared to the last time she had seen him.

Meanwhile, she couldn't help but feel she looked much the same, if not worse.

"Chimsy!" He exclaimed as he settled onto the L-shaped sofa, but he chose the other end of the L, not the space beside her.

She secretly longed for him to be closer, as this wasn't just any random meet-up; it was the moment she had yearned for after months of his distant presence.

She had envisioned their first meeting would be her rushing to him, embracing him tightly, and savoring the warmth of his neck against her cheek.

Yet, she found herself immobilized, captivated by the sheer radiance of his beauty. It was odd, mildly intimidating how remarkably better looking he appeared compared to her.

He sported a perfectly ironed shirt and shorts that were impeccably pressed, with the shorts above his knees. His facial features were so striking that she was tempted to touch his skin, half expecting to find makeup.

"Hey. Why are you looking at me like that?" he inquired with a chuckle, his smile slightly dimmed by her less-than-enthusiastic welcome.

"Oh... Uhm... Nothing," Chimsy stammered, hoping he couldn't hear the clamor of her thoughts. In that fleeting moment, she had to muster words that carried actual meaning.

"You look nice," she offered, but her words came across as dry, failing to convey the profound truth beneath them.

"Don't patronize me, Chimsy," He responded with a dry chuckle. It appeared that her silence might be unnerving him but there was no way to know that for sure since he always had his act together.

"You know I'm not patronizing you," she replied, her fingers absently tracing an invisible thread on the sofa they sat on.

At that moment, a waiter walked in and asked, "Good evening. What may I bring you?"

The interruption provided a welcome pause for her to regain her composure and corral her chaotic thoughts. The waiter directed his question toward him.

"We just got here. We're not in a hurry," he responded, and the waiter promptly left.

The establishment had its appeal; it was perfect for those seeking a place to relax and socialize, often combining good food with leisure.

The only caveat was the price tag, but neither of them needed to worry about that. They could even spend weeks there without flinching.

"Oh, sorry. I hope you're not hungry yet. I could go and get him back," he offered, with genuine remorse in his expression for the small mistake. It was a quirk that often played out when she was with friends/family who knew her a bit well.

People frequently spoke on her behalf due to her reluctance to engage with others. She had initially found it strange, but with time, she got used to it.

"No, no, no. It's okay. It doesn't matter," she reassured.

Then an awkward silence followed, so she sought to break it by saying something.

"How was the journey to Enugu?" she asked

At her question, he burst into laughter, a deep, resonant sound that filled the air and enveloped her eardrums with its infectious delight.

It had been so long since she had seen him laugh in person; it almost felt surreal. It was one of the most enchanting aspects about him, the way his smile and laughter radiated warmth, his wide grin revealing nearly his entire set of teeth.

A tingling sensation coursed through her, a stark reminder of how deeply she had missed his physical presence, something vastly different from their usual virtual meetings.

"I missed you so much, Chimsy," he confessed, his gaze locked onto her with such intensity that it felt as though he was just inches away from her.

The way her name fell from his lips sent a shiver down her spine.

"What do you mean? We literally talked on the phone this morning," she replied, accompanied by a chuckle. It was intended as a playful comment, an attempt to water down the intensity of the atmosphere and calm her racing heart.

"You know what I mean. It's different when you meet someone than when you talk over the phone," he explained. But he didn't need to explain all that because she knew damn well what he meant.

"I mi..." Her words trailed off, her thoughts slipping away momentarily. It was as if she was caught in a moment of bewilderment and as if the world had momentarily stopped.

However, he appeared unfazed, his gaze locked onto her, as though waiting for her to continue. It was as if he was frozen in time, like a paused movie.

"No," she resolved within herself, struggling to form the words. She was going to tell him the next time they met how the memory of him took a large residence in her mind.

She was going to tell him how she was completely enthralled by the idea of him. She was even going to take his hand in hers and never let go.

But there she was, struggling to say a few simple words. As she struggled, the surroundings began to phase out gradually, parts of the restaurant plunging into darkness.

"No! No! Not now!" she screamed internally as the world around her unraveled.

In a swift transition, she was abruptly ejected from her fabricated reality, back into the grim actuality of her life. There, she lay stagnant on her bed, isolated from the world for weeks.

It felt as if an unseen force held her tethered to the bed, but deep down, she knew that it was her dwindling will to live.

Her bones had atrophied, rendering her frail and making the slightest movement feel like it might shatter them into a million pieces.

There were moments when she experienced pain from the entirety of her back, pressed against the bed, yet even that pain couldn't surpass the overwhelming loss of her will to live.

All the fat in her body had withered away, leaving her resembling a desiccated corpse, except that she somehow clung to life.

What kept her going was her mind. She would plunge into her thoughts, creating scenarios that grew more vivid over time.

But no matter how lifelike they seemed, the harsh reality inevitably intruded, shattering her fantasies into countless fragments.

Each time she revisited those scenarios that had never truly happened in reality, the pain of losing him years ago resurfaced, like a reopened wound, filling her with a unique anguish that transcended the sores covering her body's neglected back.

She could never grow accustomed to that pain. So, she stared up at the ceiling, already acclimated to the noxious odor emanating from her extensive pressure sores and her weeks of neglected hygiene.

There was nothing left to ponder that she hadn't already mulled over a hundred times. Only one escape remained; to retreat once more into her imagination, as she had done countless times throughout the day.

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