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The waiting room

It went down like hot eba with slippery ogbono soup. Quick, fast, fleeting, barely leaving any taste in the mouth; Just the brief memory that something had slid in and gone down quick as lightening. It should have done the work it was meant to do, but it didn’t. And she didn’t understand it. She didn’t understand how something that was meant to be quick and powerful turned weak and feeble inside her. She willed it to life. Manifested it into being. Held the image of it in her mind’s eye until she felt the eye of her mind turn red from not blinking. She was exhausted. It was supposed to work. They promised her it would. She was only meant to believe they said, and it would happen. She believed. She really did. She felt her sinews and joints coursing with the belief, she really did. But still, she felt deflated too, as if the course of belief stopped shy of inflating her flesh with its presence. She was exhausted. *************************** Someone should have
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