Fifteen minutes to eleven, Mpho was sitting at the table just near the window inside of the restaurant. The window had the perfect view of the road outside. It was the main road headed South, that swallowed every car that drove through the downtown of Maseru, Lesotho. Almost every Friday, it was blocked up with many cars in traffic. The atmosphere was high, that even ‘Plasma’, the famous waif of Maseru, kept going up and down running about, wearing clothes that only God knows where he took from.

While watching him run up and down the street, everyone including Mpho eventually wondered if he was high. No one ever knew with Plasma, but sometimes people would see him chasing after women. Often times people would see him kissing on the few he successfully got, which was considered normal for Plasma.

Mpho always found it depressing watching the waifs on the street, begging for M1.00 (currency in Lesotho). Her father had always told her that she should never give those kids any money because people will say she was encouraging them to stay on the streets, which was only another thing that she didn’t understand about her father. Sometimes, Mpho would give a waif M5.00 and silently hope to God that they really were going to buy food and not use it for alcohol and drugs.

The smell of the fresh tea and bacon brought Mpho back to reality. She could feel her stomach growling as if she hadn’t already eaten breakfast. Then again, breakfast was Mpho’s favourite food, she could eat breakfast at any time of day.

Another reason for last failed dates, she had spent most of them ordering eggs and bacon with hot chocolate. She grinned sheepishly at the thought of her last date’s face when she ordered her food. He was the son of the Minister of Health and apparently he was a nurse. He kept commenting about how hot chocolate was junk and shouldn’t be served in restaurants. He made it clear that if Mpho was determined to be his wife, she should start paying attention to what she ate.

Mpho was glad to tell him that she had no intention of changing her diet and being his wife. The date ended, leaving Mpho to eat her free meal in peace after the boy stormed out of the room muttering curses. It had gone the way Mpho had wanted, make the boy mad and leave her with a free meal. So far her plans had been working quite well. Her mother would be running out of dates soon and she will have achieved a lot, including not dating any one of them.

She glanced at her watch and frowned. Her date was five minutes late already. She hated being late as much as being kept waiting. Whatever the reason was, she added this on her attack list to her victim. She already had several attacks for him, but they weren’t as fascinating as the other dates. She couldn’t find much on the guy except that he ran his own record label company. He didn’t post much on Facebook about his personal life, but it was okay with Mpho because she had a steady backup in criticising the local music.

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