I wasn’t even dressed to impress that morning, just a casual jean and that my faithful pair of brown slippers that had seen better days. I went to the bank to sort out some transactions; the queue was long enough to make Moses part the Red Sea again. I leaned on a pillar, scrolling aimlessly through my phone when she appeared.

“Excuse me, please... can I connect to your hotspot?”
Her voice was soft, the kind that could melt stubborn ice. She looked like sunrise on a rainy day, dark-skinned, with eyes that carried their own quiet poetry. Without thinking twice, I nodded in affirmation.

Minutes turned to moments, and my transaction was done, but she was still tapping her phone. I didn’t want to disturb her, so I quietly inquired and recharged her line and left even before she could utter appreciations.

Evening came, Lagos sun retiring behind orange clouds, and I found myself beside a pool, sipping chilled malt like a philosopher in deep reflection. Then I saw her. Water glistened on her skin as she stepped out of the pool, a walking metaphor of grace. The moonlight kissed her face, and my heartbeat did the Zanku.

She caught me staring. Our eyes met, that kind of meeting that pauses the world for a second.

“Wait…” she smiled, “You’re the hotspot guy?”

I almost dropped my drink. We both laughed, the kind of laugh that doesn’t need an explanation. She joined my table; we talked about everything, from the madness of Nigerian banks to dreams of escaping Lagos traffic forever. Time flew, words flowed, and something subtle sparked between us, not spoken, but felt. Her laughter lingered like a sweet perfume. I knew I’d met someone special.

************
Then suddenly, splash!

Cold water invaded my soul. I jumped up, choking on my dream and confusion. My sister stood over me, holding an empty cup with a mischievous grin.

“You drank tea and slept off without clearing the table. The ants were already holding a meeting.” She scolded me.
I blinked. The pool, the laughter, the girl, all was gone! Only the half-empty cup of tea stared back at me like betrayal.

I sighed deeply, wiped my face, and muttered, “So after all that connection, no network in real life.”

My sister laughed so hard she almost fell. I picked up the cup and whispered, “Next time, even in dream, I’ll collect her number first.”


Nzubechukwu 🌹