#MIKE
When you think of something that doesn't have an entity, the answer is often clear: a nonentity.
"Please don't end our relationship, Mike," Sandra pleaded. Her voice was trembling, a raw mixture of desperation and hope. "I promise to do more, to be better. Whatever it takes. Just... don't treat me this way."
Sandra had been my childhood friend, someone I had trusted implicitly. Our journey into dating had been more of an experiment than a leap of passion—at least on my part. I had always believed something was wrong with me. Despite being surrounded by young love and fleeting crushes during my adolescent years, I had never felt any of it.
Before Sandra, I had thought I was cursed—incapable of love. She had promised to help me find those feelings, and for a while, I clung to her words. But the truth remained. I didn't feel the way she did. I didn't feel at all.
"I don't know what I did wrong, Mike. Or… is it me? Am I not attractive to you?" she asked, her voice breaking. Her tears fell steadily now, and she wiped them away with the back of her palm.
I sighed heavily, shoving my hands into my pockets as I avoided her gaze. "It's not you, Sandra," I said softly. "I just... I'm not feeling anything. I think it's best we go back to being friends. This relationship isn't working for me."
She looked at me, her eyes swimming with emotions I couldn't reciprocate. The weight of the moment hung between us as the bustling sound of students heading back to their dormitories filled the air. Sandra's voice broke through the noise, her words soft but filled with pain.
"You've confused me so much, Mike. I don't think I can even think straight without you," she murmured. "Please, let's try one more time."
But I couldn't. Once my mind was made up, I rarely looked back. I rose from the bench, slung my backpack over my shoulder, and glanced at her one last time before walking away.
---
Later That Day
The quiet afternoon was interrupted by the squeal of Papa Johnson's bicycle as he swerved to avoid a pothole. He was a neighborhood staple—known for his jovial nature and ability to settle disputes among students and locals alike. On the roadside, a few vendors sat beneath their umbrellas, watching the scene unfold with a mix of amusement and fatigue, the sun bearing down on their weary faces.
Across the street, a group of notorious young men lounged carelessly, puffing on cigarettes and exchanging stories in low, menacing tones. The Anisere Boys, as they were called, had a reputation that preceded them. Most of the campus knew them as troublemakers—men in their mid-twenties who had long since abandoned the concept of morality.
"Don't cross them," people often warned. Even the authorities had given up trying to control them after too many failed attempts.
Meanwhile, my friends and I were walking back to our hostel, discussing the latest football game we'd played at the campus recreational center.
"Honestly, Joke is the hottest girl in school right now," Segun declared, gesturing wildly with his hands as if trying to illustrate her figure. Segun, a chemistry major, had an unfortunate tendency to mix his academic brilliance with an unhealthy obsession with women.
"Joke?" Biola snorted. "She's alright, but Linda has my vote," he countered. Biola, the math genius of the group, was equally infatuated with the idea of dating.
"And you?" Tobi nudged me. "What do you think, Mickey? Rolake's got to be your type, right?"
I sighed, already growing weary of the conversation. Tobi was known for his relentless curiosity about my lack of interest in women.
"Guys, I've told you before, I'm not into all this. What's the big deal? Things are fine the way they are. I don't have time to waste on these distractions."
"You're such a bore, Mike," Biola groaned. "Stop pretending you're above it all. Everyone has a type."
Tobi nodded in agreement. "Yeah, just admit it already. Who's your spec?"
I rolled my eyes. This wasn't the first time they'd tried to drag me into one of their endless debates about women. But I wasn't interested, and I never would be.
"Listen," I said, cutting them off, "you can waste your time chasing girls if you want. I'll stick to what matters. Anyway, see you guys tomorrow."
I waved them off and continued down the road, my thoughts clouded with frustration. Was it so strange to not feel attracted to anyone? To not see the point in their endless pursuits?
---
I was lost in my thoughts when it happened. One moment I was walking, and the next, I collided with someone, hard.
Before I could even process what had happened, a sharp slap stung my cheek.
"Are you blind?" a furious voice demanded. "Can't you tell the difference between the road and where you're going?"
I blinked in shock, my hand instinctively flying to my face. A girl stood before me, glaring as though I'd committed a grave offense. Her audacity lit a fire of anger in me.
"How dare you?" I snapped. "Do you think you can just hit me for something so trivial?"
Her eyes widened slightly, but she quickly recovered, raising her hand to slap me again. This time, I caught her wrist mid-air. Pulling her closer, I let my fury show in my glare.
"Listen carefully," I said, my voice low and dangerous. "how dare you, It seems this would probably be the last time you use this hand.if you know you're not taught in the right way by your parents then, Stay out of people's way you stupid idiot."
I shoved her aside and walked away without looking back, my heart pounding as anger and adrenaline coursed through me.