Dami, a man who saw life not as a bed of thorns but of sharp objects, rose with his usual morning prayer. He went downstairs, intending to drink coffee like a 'boss,' but his body, accustomed to a rigorous workout, demanded water first. As he sipped his coffee, the large plasma TV, a testament to his love for 'big' things, played boring news.

Tired of watching movies alone, he put on some music. “The money wey we get o, he no go finish o, amen.” A song featuring Wizkid, an artist Dami obsessed over, filling his house. Suddenly, a voice from upstairs, accompanied by footsteps, broke his reverie. "Babe, why is the music so loud?"

Dami froze, stopping the music. 'Babe?' he thought, dropping his cup. A young, light-skinned woman, wearing his oversized white tee-shirt, descended the stairs. She tousled her thick, kinky hair, revealing her face. He’d never seen such long hair. "Why did you switch off the music?" she asked, seeing his shocked expression. "You look like you just saw a ghost."

Dami was speechless, his mind racing. How did she get in? He couldn't remember bringing anyone home last night. She was beautiful, but his confusion was overwhelming. He closed his eyes, trying to recall. “You’re the girl at the club last night, right?” he managed, moving towards her. “But what are you doing here?” He quickly glanced at her body, a dangerous thought. Why was she in his house without his knowledge? They had only talked briefly at the club, a few drinks that shouldn't have affected him.

"Ahn ahn, what do you mean? I’m here because you brought me home last night, and we made love!" she said, her words hitting him like a punch. "Me? What? You must be high!" he scoffed, disbelief washing over him.