Short Story: A Harsh Fate 2

She greeted in a way that elevated her manners, but it appeared that her presence was too homely to be noticed. Kunle moved to avert the impending anomalies that this first impression could wrought, but he was soon to find out that it was an effort in futility. Mr Agbaje finally turned off the T.V set. He glanced at Nkechi as if there was something about her structure that was not human, and then he mumbled words that Nkechi took to be in response to her greetings. The body language among the Agbajes was obvious. She was not welcome, and as she stood up to find the knob of the door, Mr Agbaje spoke up 'We are sorry. We hope you understand. This marriage is simply not feasible. The ethnic barrier, class differences and other plethora of factors just makes it improbable. We are sorry'. Kunle sat on his chair. Too devastated to move, and Nkechi hurriedly said 'Thank you', in a voice that was struggling to mask it's trobules. As she walked out of the gate of the Agbajes, the harsh sun only the North can conjure, poured upon her face. Her mind was aching and her feet was moving in a precision that was fretful. Perhaps, it was her fate to remain single, she wondered. And as she moved her body along the tedious street, she soliloquized in breaking and painstaking tears 'Why can't these people from home just leave me alone'.