He was minding his business, that became his first mistake. "You there!" a sharp voice snapped. "Are you decorating the road, or can you move?" Aderemi turned. She stood there like she owned the space around her-heels clicking, sunglasses perched arrogantly, lips pressed into a permanent expression of irritation. "Good afternoon," he said. She scoffed. "I didn't ask for pleasantries." He smiled. That smile annoyed her instantly. "Wow," he said. "Even the sun is kinder." Her eyes flashed. "Who raised you?" "Two very patient people," he replied. "Clearly not yours." And just like that
the war began. Ifediba stared at Aderemi like she was deciding whether to insult him or erase him from existence. "You have exactly three seconds," she said, lifting her sunglasses just enough for him to see her eyes, "to apologize for wasting my time."
Aderemi checked an imaginary watch.
"One… two-" "Don't be stupid," she snapped. He grinned. "Too late. I already am." People nearby began to stare. Lagos loved drama, and Ifediba delivered it effortlessly. "You're one of those men who think being annoying is a personality trait," she said. "And you're one of those women who think rudeness is confidence," he replied. "We should start a support group."
Her jaw tightened. "You're blocking my way."
"There are at least six other ways," he gestured. "Including the one behind you."
She stepped closer, invading his space. "I don't walk around obstacles. Obstacles move." Aderemi leaned in slightly. "Then today is your unlucky day." For a split second, she looked stunned, then she laughed-sharp, incredulous. "You're mad." "Yes," he said easily. "But I'm polite about it." She shook her head, muttering something in Igbo that sounded unkind, then brushed past him hard enough that her shoulder clipped his. He watched her walk away, heels striking the pavement like punctuation marks. "Well," he said to no one, "that went beautifully." He didn't expect to see her again. Life, however, enjoyed irony.