Sweet

I am on a bike on the expressway and choking on a sweet. I cough, but I cannot dislodge the sweet from my throat. I am choking on the expressway. The bike is fast, and I look at the bike man’s shirt. It is black. I wonder why he is not stopping.

I hear a bike coming from behind us, and now I see it riding by our left side. It is another bike man and his passenger. I avoid the passenger’s eyes because I think I look panic-stricken, and then I turn away. They zoom past us. I am still coughing, and I wonder if I will fall off the bike.

I raise my left hand and look at my palm. It is hard and fair. I can see all the lines, and it is oddly calming. I cough once more, and the sweet is back on my tongue and my eyes water. I feel relieved. I think of the two ways I always think I will die and wonder if a ten Naira sweet will trump my list.

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