Friends... Non-French Hens
Adaora had stopped crying by the time they landed at the airport, but she couldn't have of course poured out her heart for the whole agonising hours spent in the flight. She had slept midway, and woken up feeling a little bit better.
But not any less heartbroken.
Even as they landed and she stared at the familiar environment she had grown up in, there had been something missing, the hollow in her heart dug so deep she felt as though she had been thrown into a labyrinth.
She felt empty even as she stared at the many tall buildings that graced the streets of Lagos.
There was no coming back from the feelings she had come to develop for Kelvin.
As she walked down the shiny vinyl floors of the airport with a hostess carrying her luggage behind her, she kept her eyes on the yellow cabs queued up and waiting for passengers.
Had it been before when her senses were still with her, she would have made a reservation beforehand.