
Cry it now while the saints are still around-Osinachi Nwuchukwu(RIP)
He stormed into the room fitfully breathing, blustering like a tragic tyrant throwing his hands frantically in the air enraged like a son of thunder. This time around, it wasn’t the romantic playful horseplay she had gotten used to over the years.
As she was halfway explaining herself, that soft caress she was used to was replaced by a sharp slap on her left cheek.
“Shut up!” he yelled.
With a tone that turned to vitriol against her replacing those sweet serenading words that had once awakened butterflies in her. As if that wasn’t enough, he bashed and smashed her against the wall, with his grip tightly wrapped around her bony neck like a snake engulfing its prey.
He struck her with a firm blow on the left cheek again with…
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