She cantered to the kitchen door as if the ghost of Enebele would suddenly awake.
The pot of Egusi soup was still sitting still on top of the gas cooker. She took a cursory look at the untidy image of her once glorious kitchen and tried to compare it to its days of former glory.
Shreds of dried onion peels conversed on the sink, vehemently argued by the pile of unwashed utensils which added more horror to the atmosphere.
She perceived the foul smell and knew the source to be the soup pot which was left uncovered.
Everything lay amiss, just as she had left them two months ago. She walked briskly, in calculated steps towards it.
A look at its current state churned her guts with anger and contempt. She could tell the form of the vicious roaches in her husband’s dinner. They had died inside the delight of delicacy.
Somehow, she felt happy at their demise and wondered how they had given up the ghost after a taste of her dish.
Tears strolled down her eyes as her memories juggled to two months ago -in this same kitchen and this same soup pot.
To be continued…