Chapter 3
923 Words
People rarely notice the moment their lives begin to change.It usually looks like an ordinary decision.
Mrs. Williams’ words followed Bami out of the office and into the corridor.
You’ve become excellent at watching life… but terrible at participating in it.
The sentence clung to her the way certain songs refused to leave your mind.
She adjusted the strap of her handbag and stepped into the elevator with three other people a marketing executive talking animatedly on the phone, a courier balancing two heavy boxes of books, and a young woman hugging a manuscript to her chest as though it contained her future.
Maybe it did.
The elevator doors opened onto the lobby.
“Have a good afternoon, Bami,” Ada called from the reception desk.
“You too.”
She pushed through the revolving glass doors, and Lagos welcomed her with a gust of humid air.
The city was louder now.
The afternoon rush had begun.
Yellow buses crawled through traffic with impossible determination. Horns rose and fell like an orchestra that had never rehearsed. Hawkers walked fearlessly between moving cars, calling out cold drinks, plantain chips and phone chargers with the confidence of people who understood that survival often depended on persistence.
Bami reached into her handbag.
Her fingers found her earphones automatically.
She paused.
Mrs. Williams’ voice echoed in her mind.
“You hide behind your headphones in cafés.”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
“So… no headphones.”
She slipped them back into her bag.
It felt strangely vulnerable.
Walking without music was unfamiliar.
She heard things she’d spent years muting.
A little boy ran past, chasing a punctured football that had clearly lived several lives before finding him.
Two women stood outside a fabric shop arguing passionately about which shade of blue looked better for a wedding.
An elderly man selling newspapers greeted nearly everyone who passed.
Not because he knew them.
Because kindness had become a habit.
Bami slowed her pace.
Almost without thinking, she reached into her bag and pulled out the cream notebook.
She stopped beneath the shade of a flamboyant tree and uncapped her pen.
Notebook Entry
The newspaper seller smiles before he speaks.
Maybe that’s why people stop.
She stared at the sentence.
It wasn’t much.
But it was honest.
For the first time in weeks…
She hadn’t written fiction.
She had written something she had seen.
The café sat at the end of a quiet street, tucked between a bookstore and a flower shop whose buckets overflowed with lilies, sunflowers and white roses.
Bami had walked past it dozens of times.
She had never gone inside.
The chalkboard outside the entrance read:
Today’s Special
Coffee tastes better when you stay awhile.
She smiled despite herself.
“That’s clever.”
“Kunle writes those.”
The voice came from beside her.
She turned.
A woman arranging flowers looked up from trimming a stem.
“He changes it every morning.”
“Does it work?”
The florist laughed.
“You walked over here, didn’t you?”
Bami looked back at the sign.
She had.
Without realising it.
The little bell above the café door chimed softly as she stepped inside.
Warm light spilled across polished wooden tables.
The rich aroma of freshly ground coffee wrapped around the room like an embrace.
Someone laughed quietly in a corner.
Soft jazz drifted from hidden speakers.
It was peaceful.
Not silent.
Just…
Gentle.
For the first time all day, Bami exhaled without realising she’d been holding her breath.
“Welcome.”
The barista looked up from steaming milk.
His smile arrived easily.
“What can I get for you?”
Bami glanced at the menu.
Truthfully…
She had no idea.
She wasn’t much of a coffee person.
“I…”
She laughed softly.
“I think I need help.”
The barista grinned.
“My favourite kind of customer.”
He wiped his hands on his apron before pointing to the menu.
“I’m Kunle.”
“Bami.”
“Nice to meet you, Bami.”
He studied her for exactly two seconds.
“You look like someone who needs comfort more than caffeine.”
She blinked.
“Is it that obvious?”
“No.”
He smiled.
“I’ve just been doing this long enough.”
She found herself smiling back.
“What would you recommend?”
“A cappuccino.”
“I’ll trust you.”
“You’ll thank me.”
Cup in hand, Bami looked around for somewhere to sit.
Most of the tables were occupied.
Students.
Remote workers.
A couple sharing a slice of cheesecake.
Near the window…
One table remained empty.
She walked towards it, placed her notebook on the polished wooden surface and settled into the chair.
Outside, the city continued rushing past.
Inside…
Time seemed to move differently.
She opened the cream notebook.
For a long moment…
She simply watched.
A woman reading while absentmindedly stirring coffee that had long gone cold.
A university student highlighting the same page over and over again without turning it.
Kunle remembering a regular customer’s order before she spoke.
People.
Just people.
Mrs. Williams had been right.
Stories weren’t hiding.
They were living ordinary lives in ordinary places, waiting for someone to notice.
Bami lowered her pen to the page.
She wrote three words.
People are fascinating.
She smiled.
It was the first genuine smile she’d worn all day.
And she had no idea…
That on the following Thursday…
Someone would ask,
“Is this seat taken?”
- Writer
