It’s exactly 06:45 when I walk out into the balcony, and see Tshego parking her black Mercedes Maybach. She emerges, stumbling. She gently leans against her car, and swings her side bag over her head, clutching it, like someone would snatch it away from her.

She’s wearing a short black dress, that shows more than I’d want people to see. She has beautiful caramel thighs, long legs and a killer catwalk. She’s wearing red bottom heals, on her left hand, she has a Savannah bottle halfway done.

I sigh, what if she had gotten caught out by the police? She roughly flips her weave, and looks up, she spots me, then waves. “Baby!” She drunkenly shouts.

I wince, it’s still early, and this is a posh neighborhood, one could get a warning for making noise. I move from the balcony, walking back into the apartment. Five minutes later, she throws open the door.

Her beautiful face looks so tired, her hazel brown eyes are half closed, and her full lips that were smeared with red lipstick when she left last night, are now shining with saliva. Who kissed the lipstick off from her lips? Or maybe, nobody kissed her, it just got removed. No one would have lipstick on for an entire night, right?

“Baby!” She shouts again. “You should’ve seen Zanele. Dancing ontop of tables.” She tells me, doing a “Bastrata” dance move.

“Ke bana bastrata” She sings, as she finishes the last drop of her Savannah.

I roll my eyes at her, I know nothing I say will register to her at this point. “Why don’t you take a shower?” I ask her.

She walks wobbly to our room, her Savannah bottle long ditched. I hear things falling, and after three minutes silence. I follow her, and I find her passed out on the mat in our bedroom floor, snoring loudly.

I shake my head and jump over her, I grab my toiletries and take a bath. When I’m done, I text Betty and ask her if she wants to hang out, she agrees and says I should come over her flat in 30 minutes.

I use all my strength to pick Tshego up from the floor and plump her onto the bed,

“Don’t touch me! I have a girlfriend!” She yells as I undress her.

“Shut up!” I hiss

“Don’t touch me! Phumeza! Baby!” She mumbles, her eyes closed.

I choose to ignore her, when I’m done, I put a fleece blanket over her and walk out, locking the door behind me.