Basely Iniquitous

'Nastanje, kindly ensure the report is polished for tomorrows presentation. You know, just do you'

The immediate supervisor, Victoria, casually pointed out as she hooked her latest Fenty bag on her right arm and sauntered away. A sign that she was done for the day.

It was an 8 to 5 job, but then if you have the means, 4 pm or 4.30pm as the clock out time would suffice. The sound of heels faded, Nastanje sighed and clicked her mail to review the document.

She had two more hours to kill, two hours to 7 pm before she clocked off. She hated the monotonous tangent her life had taken, the 8 to 5 seesaw that basically translated to 6 to 7, whether she was busy or not, in the name of beating traffic.

Her life reeked of normalcy with abnormal hobbies like anime, manga and animations that her colleagues considered either foreign or childish. She thought they were enlightening and formed a better source of entertainment.

An introvert, books were her best friend. Mostly fiction. She found motivation books dull and drudge. However, she never shied away from adrenaline-packed activities whenever the chance presented itself, which was very rare.

Getting her ass off the bed was a big deal and she could spent days just lying there and staring. She was never this dull, but for the past few years, she found herself withdrawing into her cocoon more.

She admired the courage of the characters in books but did not admire their life. A life full of choreographed perfection and victory. Regardless, she fell in love with two imperfect characters Vino and Maimuna. Vino from Baccano! and Maimuna from a Swahili book called Utengano (Disunity).

As she clocked out at 6.30pm so as to walk to the bus station, she thought of calling Mike. The idea was tragically struck down. Who calls their ex-boyfriend?

The walk submerged her in a reverie of the past. Her still heart nostalgically longed for that occasional run. Her brain missed that rush of a runner's high.

She had stopped her running routine for a while now, lost weight due to illness and gained it back in equal measure. She hated the lack of motivation in her life. She hated herself, her routine... If the sweet relief of death could break the monotony.... No, man must live.

But, what if death took her? She thought of the little possession she had. It would not cover a proper burial ceremony. In her funeral, there should be enough food for everyone. Enough to cater for even those uninvited.

At 27, childless and single, she would probably be buried behind her father's homestead. Hidden from the world. If she kills herself, her corpse will be beaten and then buried overnight. No mourning, no celebration, no food. Goosebumps formed on her arms at the thought. Heavens forbid.

What would people say at her funeral? So far, she had lived perfectly as a good daughter and sister and created few enemies. Well her introverted nature made her seem aloof and snobbish to her colleagues but that would not be reason enough to create enmity, would it? But then again, humans were unpredictable.

She was jolted back to reality by a conversation between a couple, probably colleagues. The young lady was complaining about her tumultuous relationship. Something about her boyfriend mismanaging their funds.

The young man beside her played the silent listener. Nastanje envied her. The young lady had someone to vent to. She had no one. She listened a little more to the gossip, got bored and took out her earphones. The song move by Hozier pulled her into another world. She was dancing with Mike, the long-gone Mike.

Her last recollection was her body flying up and painfully hitting the ground. The impact of the fall immersing her in unimaginable pain. Blood and saliva seemed to get stuck in her throat. An attempt to cough it out resulted in immeasurable pain.

Damn, am going to be buried behind Papa's home. Atleast she will be home. She mused wryly. Darkness enveloped her.