My First Tear Drop in Rome Part One

Think of Me/No More Tears
Think of Me/No More Tears (Photo credit: Wikipedia)











Hello friends, Today I would like to do something different. For the whole of this week look out for a continuing story…I will not preempt …read on…this is fictional…

I have never been a science freak. The word science for me had always been boring, and nauseating per se. On a bright Saturday morning, I heard a knock at my door. I opened and a tall, brown handsome Caucasian man stood there, limply leaning on the wall.
“Good morning?”
“Morning,” he muttered,”
“How can I help?”
“May I come in?”
My head reeled. No. How could I let him in? My friends had just left after a house party and hell was an understatement.

“It’s okay young lady, I really need your help, please,” he begged imploringly.
“Okay then, hope you won’t mind, the house is in a mess,”
“Thanks,” shoving me out of his way.
I looked at him, just wondering where he had left his manners. He unpacked his bag.
Goodness Graciousness!” I gasped.
He looked up.
“I promise I won’t hurt you lady,” he assured me grinning.
“Who are you and what do you want from me?”
“My name is Stuart, Stuart Coleman, what’s yours?”
“Pleasure,” he said and continued to unpack what looked like military equipment to me.
“Pleasure,” I mumbled obviously pissed off by the sudden intrusion.
“Do you have a phone?”
I pointed to where it was. He dialed and spoke a language that I clearly had no idea what it was.
“Thanks, a lot. Do you have an extra room in this house? I don’t even mind a corridor,”
What is wrong with him?
“Listen, Stuart,” I began contemptuously.
He jerked from his seat, and came closer to where I stood.
“I won’t hurt you, I only dare you to trust me,”
“Dude, I don’t even know you,” I snapped.
“I understand you Wambui, please do,”
There was only one empty room in my house, Carlton’s room. No. he wouldn’t use it. It was still Carlton’s, whether he was in or not. Carlton had come to live in my house when he had started receiving death threats from his rivals. He lived here for six months, until when one time he was so ill, I could no longer keep him. We had to go to hospital.
“Are you ok?”
Stuart interrupted my trail of thought.
“I have no extra room,” I finally managed to say, “but my study is big, maybe we can divide it into two,” I said trying to be kind, assuming he was indirectly requesting for a place to sleep.
“Fine with me,”
I led him to the study.
“Impressive! Just what I needed,”


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