It’s implausible but it’s true; just “one inch” less or more has shaped circumstances for better or worse. For better maybe wouldn’t get me whining but sadly most times it’s the negative that is fodder for expression. If He was to meet God, he would ask for one more inch.
He: “Now you cut your hair without my knowledge, that’s bad!” She: “Crap, it’s my hair and I make do with any style I please” He: “So I bet I’ll hold my own hair as we make love, right?
That night they argued, about who pays for the hair, the extensions, the hot combing weekly, intense it became and like a flash from a Hasselblad Camera. Slap on the cheek She hit him, with all fury and rage or boiling love *whatever you may call it He hit her back. She dashed out of the bedroom, phone in tow, rivulets of tears running down her cheeks straight to the bathroom and locked the door. Instantly, he apologised through the closed-door, and pleaded for forgiveness but the damage was done. +44 5737363… she speed dialled, the mother. “Moira,Moira what? What did he do?” Moira and the Mum were inseparable, much as she was in Budapest and she back home, Facetime and Skype had bridged the geographical separation.
Moira, the only child of a noted delegate, had lived solely with the delegate Mum for her entire lifetime. She never saw or ever asked about the plight of her Father. So, the Mum called a friend who knew a friend who rang a prominent security operative. And before Arnold could contemplate the way forward let alone remove the towel for the night robe, he was in handcuffs tossed onto the back of a police van and he didn’t even catch a glimpse of the wife.
A missed board meeting, an unforgiving wife, the biting cold of the night, the pathetic smell of the holding cell; one inch, just one inch, left an indelible mark on his relationship, on his marriage.
Really? Should Height be a bid deal?
“You didn’t buy for me this iPhone because we were dating, it’s because I owed you that you did. More over I don’t date short men like you”. shots fired. Real shots from a “High Calibre Handgun.” Had it not been for his best friend who restrained him, a fight was imminent.
He met her in a bar somewhere in Kololo, together with a bevy of friends he made their night special, drinks on him, more drinks, refill after refill that ended with dropping each of her friends to their residences. He was a good spirited guy, smart, suave and well-built and worked with a top bank in town. Somewhere in this life he had dropped just one inch.
He liked her, and for those three weeks he became fond of her and was slowly falling in love with her. She showed she was there for him and she would all that a lady in love would do. But some people in his life were not convinced, but as there’s a thin line between love and doltishness he couldn’t see the signs.
“Arhhh, I told you Clarissa, i don’t love him that much. It’s all for the fun.” It was a notification that Sunday evening that awoken his supine judgement. He politely asked her what the message meant and like brontides, she burst out accusing him on invasion of privacy, distrust and horde of accusations. “Alright, since you don’t love me and it’s the phone’s fault that we are arguing, please may i have my phone back?”
Where one Inch really mattered.
In the back of the car, as the fireworks blew in the neighbourhood, they were grinding in the back seat of a Golden Sedan 2014. There could only be one culprit, her boss. Married, with a ring on her finger and her pink lace pants half way down her knees, there she was. Passion was up in the air, well the little air that was circulating in the Car as nearly all the space was taken up by the bulky boss. Throughout all, the Askari was looking and thanks for mobile phones, just a quick call and the Husband, the police and a couple of scribes had surrounded the scene.
Boss was arrested, and in her defence the cheating wife said, “Just one more in inch is what I desired and was looking for.”