The wind blew in harshly through the window and disturbed Simba while he tried to sleep. He hoped he would fall in love with a girl. He felt he needed someone and would ask himself questions: who was she? Where she was from? Her name, surname, age, likes and dislikes were only imaginary. It was not good to be alone sometimes. He needed some tender loving care.

The weekend arrived and he felt bored, like he needed some air. He dressed himself in skinny jeans and a tight shirt that would make ladies drool over him. His muscles showed through his shirt. He walked through the streets with his hands in his pockets, kicking pebbles as he went.

A short lady passed him. She smelt attractively of fresh roses, and he lifted up his chin. The lady had chocolate skin and was beautiful and radiant. She had a bright smile and his stomach was filled with warmth.

“Hey, do you know a street called Alaz?” she asked, smiling and showing off her dimples.

“Yes, it’s where I stay. What number are you looking for?” he answered politely, not removing his eyes from her.

“Thirteen…I am looking for Marcia,” she said, giggling.

Watching her was like eating good food. She seemed to light a fire in him.

“I am Simba. Please can I have your number?” he pleaded, putting on the face of a lonely kitten.

“I am Lisa,” she said, ignoring his question. “Where is the street?”

Simba was persuasive but she kept on refusing. She got annoyed and tried to walk off but Simba took her hand, forcefully and tightly.

“OK, I will give it you. Promise you will leave me,” she said, seriously.

He nodded as he fished his phone from his pocket. She brisked away and he saw her talking to another woman before she disappeared. He jumped up and down like he had just won the jackpot and he screamed that he had scored himself a chick. Her number was worth a million bucks to him.

Tell us: What do you think of Simba’s forceful manner?