We are walking home from the shop, she’s managed to dodge my question about her type.

“Pretty girls?” I say again, bumping against her.

She tilts the umbrella, giving me more shade. “You’re still on that!” She half smiles.

Let me just explain this half smile of hers, it’s like she wants to smile, but quickly decides against it. Like she actually starts smiling, but quickly frowns. I don’t know why she does that, it’s kind of dismissive, rude but..sexy? I don’t know, don’t judge!

“Where were you during the mantra that, “looks don’t matter anymore, we go for stability, maturity and peace?”” I ask her.

She laughs. “How old are you?”

“21, I thought you knew that.”

“Exactly, at our age, looks matter boo.” She replies.

Makes sense. I want to argue further, but decide against it.

**

We walk to the kitchen, my mom is already setting up the plates with her mom. 

We settle around the dining table. We start eating.

“You don’t eat mashed potatoes?” My mom says to Lwandle.

“But she eats fries! Honestly!” Lwandle’s mom cuts through

“That’s strange” my mom laughs.

Lwandle shrugs. “I just don’t like mash.”

Her voice? It’s gruff and low. She sounds like she forces the words out, like she doesn’t want to talk but she’s being forced to. It’s almost deep, but with a feminine side to it that makes it more appealing.

“I also don’t like mash sometimes.” I come to her defence.

My mom looks at me, “Aysuka wena! You eat mash like its pap.” She says

Oh well, I tried.