After School: 1

After School: An Anthology
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I held the pen to write, lividly. The pen had a rope tied to it, an unattractive one.
“This bank people self. I will trust you people with my money, all of it. But you can’t trust me with your pen. Ordinary Pen! Hay God! Evil people everywhere.” My mind said.
I bent down, I had my withdrawal slip staring at me, still blank. Big Sister had finally sent the money she promised. It was war, the type which I never love losing. I nagged for days on end, the money had to drop. “Two thousand Naira only” I scribbled on my slip alongside the other important info.
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I was on the queue, eyes astray, mind astray. Facing the entrance door, I saw a lady enter. She was stunning at least. Her waist moved with the fluidity and calm of a pendulum ball, very winged too. Her earrings dangled majestically as they also glistered. Her gown, slim fit, short and classy. I could bet her earrings alone cost more than all my personal effects, from my shirt to my shoes. Her steps accompanied by that peculiar tapping as in the movies, Hollywood mainly. She took a slip and started writing on the desk, exposing an obviously costly wristwatch. I must confess, I was star struck, “wait…. Is that not Rita?” I said with squinted eyes.

“Rita!” I exclaimed with wide eyes.
“Jonathan!” She was surprised too, conspicuously.
She took my hand in a handshake, I had wanted a hug though. I mean, who wouldn’t want to rub against such elegant gown? Just the gown ooh, nothing more.
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35 minutes gone, I was in a shop opposite the bank premises and Rita had just left. For the past 35 minutes, I sat ruminating on the little thing we talked about in the bank hall.
Rita got married early this year. To a rich guy, I suppose, judging by her appearance. She works with a public relations company. She has a car, with which she drove past now.
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I told her I came to rectify a BVN issue with my bank account, I just couldn’t let her know I came to withdraw just two thousand Naira. I had to wait for her to leave, and walk into the bank to get the money.

Rita used to be my girlfriend in school, when she was yet to have her pendulum waist. It was fun with her. I was broke then, she was broke too. We were all broke, but we dated nevertheless. Anyhow anyhow, Dad go drop every month. But, THINGS ARE NOT THE SAME NOW.
I passed the ATM stand as I went for the door. One guy just drew out something looking like 100 pieces of 1000 Naira bills.
“Chai, look at this small boy. How do these people sleep at night having this kind of money? Naked?” I shook my head.
Using the ATM used to be a preference. I never loved, and still don’t, using the withdrawal queue inside. No one did, No one does.
I resigned to my queue fate a year ago when my ATM card expired. I couldn’t just give out 1,050 Naira when I can come earlier and stand. No, not in this recession. I envy the “ATMers” anyway. Suffering should not be boasted with.
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‘2K gone, 4K left, 1k for the bank’ the debit alert summarized.
“Bike!” I jumped on it, and got on my way.
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Life AFTER SCHOOL has been this way.

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