The voice from the other room, fiction by Ifeoluwa Dada

Why burden yourself with unnecessary luggage, what is the need for a hand bag? Those were the words of a husband, Yemi.

Yemi had obviously grew out of patience with Sade’s prolonged stay at the other room.

“Come on, we are almost a hour behind schedule and the horrors of the gridlock on third mainland bridge awaits us on a Friday evening like
this” The voice from the room replied ” hold on Honey, I am coming”
A radiantly dressed Sade eventually stepped out, this time with a handbag made of horse skin leather, different from the one she went in with. Why the change? Yemi queried. I needed something that would match my dress perfectly, Sade responded. The couple were steps away from the car when Yemi remarked again, “so you consider this sack a
perfect match with your outfit?”
That was too much a joke for Sade to swallow. Her initial response was to be still like a troubled tree and in moments she turned back. “All right, you can go on to the event alone, I am no longer interested”.
Yemi’s eyes and ears struggled to make meanings from Sade’s latest gesture. This can’t be true. “Honey, I am sorry, it’s just a joke, you look perfect and beautiful in that combination”.
His plea only fell on deaf ears. Sade is back at the other room undressing like one whose garment caught fire. The husband came in and
wouldn’t give up on persuading the wife. At least, not yet. He sat at the edge of the bed and tried to move towards his lady at the other end. As he pressed on, he unconsciously had touched the bag which
wasn’t sitting comfortably at the edge of the bed, causing it to fall.
The hand bag fell, it’s content scattered on the tiled floor. And what he saw was a shocker. Rude shock. The kind that makes a man leaves his
mouth opened for minutes…