i’m in bed listening to deathmetal (by panchiko, not the genre) when i get a text.

‘kob u?’

aiminadhi just HAS to cutify everyday words!

‘lying about,’ i reply. ‘whaddap?’

she wants to see if i’m up for breakfast. hell no, i’m a coffee for breakfast kinda guy, or at least i’ve become one. peer pressure, if you must know. but then again, i have no peers.

soon i am by the counter at the usual, deciding on a drink when she walks in.

‘we’ll pay separately, right?’ she asks because she is saving her money – from me. she pays for my meals sometimes. a kindly lady, aiminadhi.

we get our orders – i am having a latte and she a juice and a toastie. you might think she’s concerned about her health but that’s not really true at all. she smokes like a bonfire.

i take her bag from her, and man, it’s heavy as hell.

‘what’s in this? your desktop?’ i ask. she grunts.

‘my office hasn’t given me a computer still,’ she says. ‘so i’m not going back today. why should i? i can work from home.’

‘good.’

she takes a bite from her toastie and makes a face.

‘not good?’

‘you have some and tell me.’

i have a bite – it’s a bit fishy, because it’s toasted tuna and i think canned tuna gets a bit fishy when you heat it up again. but i dunno for sure and i’m uncertain as to whether this is a good toastie. maybe that’s saying something.

‘did you know alifulhu broke up with faathaanike?’ asks aiminadhi.

‘did you only just find out?’ i say.

‘how was i to know?’ she says. ‘how long have you known?’

i finish my latte too quickly and begin thirsting for another coffee. good lord. what is happening to me?

‘what are you mumbling?’ asks aiminadhi. i shake my head. and then i spot moosaalhu walking by.

‘HEY, HEY MOOSAALHU,’ i yell, startling both aiminadhi and my lanky friend.

‘oh god please don’t!’ says aiminadhi embarrassed. ‘you shouldn’t have had that latte.’

‘hello guys,’ says moosaalhu moving the bag and sitting down. ‘what’s in this bag? pavement bricks?’

‘huh,’ says aiminadhi. ‘look at my shoes you two, aren’t they cute? like school girl shoes.’

‘i think they say ‘mama’s into leather,” i tell her and moosaalhu grins.

‘how tall have they made you?’ he says.

‘two inches,’ says aiminadhi.

‘so you’re finally five feet,’ says moosaalhu.

aiminadhi makes a face and lights up a cigarette.

‘can i get a coffee?’ i ask moosaalhu.

‘go get it yourself,’ he says smiling.

‘i am pretty low on cash,’ i tell him.

‘why? did they finally realise you were replaceable with modern tech?’ he grins.

‘just get me a coffee dammit,’ i say.

‘say please,’ says moosaalhu, milking the moment.

‘ok fine, PLEASE,’ i tell him. he gives me his card, totally throwing me off.

‘WOW!’ i say. ‘did you SEE that? he’s trusting me with his BANK CARD. make note of this day, aiminadhi.’

she laughs.

‘can you bring me my drink too?’ moosaalhu asks me.

when i come over with the drinks, moosaalhu nods towards someone parking his bike. he is bearded, his head is clean shaven, and on the back of his bike is a ‘shein’ package.

‘it’s faris maumoon on a side hustle,’ says moosaalhu. i start preparing to take a pic.

‘too slow,’ he says.

‘it’s NOT HIM!’ i exclaim. moosaalhu laughs.

‘you two are SOOO embarrassing,’ says aiminadhi.

‘it’s too hot in here,’ says moosaalhu. ‘look at that fan, crompton. it sounds fancy but look how it jerks from side to side.’

‘crompton is the unsung town next to compton,’ i say. ‘cos they have no singers.’

i draw blanks from the other two.

‘i asked aiminadhi to come to the club,’ i tell them.

‘it’s sooo far away,’ she says.

‘it’s not THAT far,’ says moosaalhu. ‘not in THOSE shoes. besides, the club is better than THIS. i’ve only been here two times and i’ve hated it both times.’

‘see?’ i tell aiminadhi.

‘anyway, i gotta go,’ says moosaalhu starting to stand.

‘could you give me a ride home?’ says aiminadhi.

‘sure,’ he says.

‘wait till i smoke one more.’

‘it’s only safari owners and aiminadhi who can afford to smoke marlboros now,’ i tell moosaalhu who has sat down again. and we wait in the heat of this dreary day for aiminadhi to finish off her fifth cancer stick.