Insight of a Kenyan Girl

Patty slowed the bike in front of my temporary home, the old apartment complex tucked in a quiet corner of the city. It looked harmless enough, but there was something about the way the night had unfolded — the quiet hum of the bike engine, the way he watched me now — that made it feel like this moment held more weight than it should.

He didn’t say anything at first. Neither of us did. It was like a silent agreement, both of us lingering in the space before goodbyes, the last moments stretching longer than they had any right to.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said, finally breaking the stillness.

Patty’s eyes flicked to me, a smirk forming at the corner of his lips. “No problem. It’s never just a ride with me.”

I chuckled despite myself. The tension was still there, crackling in the air like static before a storm. I didn’t want to admit it, but I wanted to stay in that moment forever.

But we both knew I couldn’t.

I reached for the door, my fingers brushing the cool metal. As I stepped off the bike, I hesitated, feeling the weight of the moment. He wasn’t the kind of guy you just walked away from.

“You sure you’re good?” he asked, his voice low, something unreadable in his gaze.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, looking away before I gave away too much. He wasn’t asking about the bike ride anymore.

There was a long beat of silence, and I couldn’t help but look back at him one last time. “Take care of yourself, Patty.”

His lips curled, just the slightest curve. “Always do. You too, Minnie.”

I watched him go, the roar of the engine fading into the night. My chest ached with the pull of something unspoken, and I felt the weight of all the things I didn’t know.

Inside the apartment, I couldn’t shake the feeling of him. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made me second-guess everything I thought I knew.

The room was small, too small for my thoughts. I took a few steps and dropped my bag on the floor, kicking off my shoes as if they could erase the lingering warmth of the bike ride.

It wasn’t long before my phone buzzed.

Patty:
Made it back to your secret lair okay?

I smiled, feeling the corners of my lips curve upward despite the uncertainty still hanging in the air.

Minnie:
Secret lair secured. No villains spotted. Just me and a very judgmental ceiling fan.

Patty:
Sounds dangerous. Stay alert. Ceiling fans can’t be trusted. 😎

I laughed, shaking my head. He had a way of keeping things light, even when everything felt heavier than it should.

Minnie:
Duly noted. If I don’t report back by morning, avenge me.

Patty:
No promises. I might negotiate with the enemy instead.

I felt the warmth in my chest again. That smirk of his, that carefree ease — it was almost too perfect. Too good to be true. But then why did my gut tell me something else? Something deeper?

Minnie:
Slow doesn’t sound so bad.

Patty:
Neither do you.

The words hit harder than they should have. I didn’t know how to react, but I couldn’t ignore the weight of them.

Minnie:
Goodnight, Patty.

Patty:
Goodnight, Minnie.

I set the phone down and stared at the ceiling, the quiet in the apartment closing in around me. There was something about him — something off-kilter that I couldn’t quite pin down. He wasn’t who he seemed, I was sure of that.

I’d figured out how to hide parts of myself in a world that didn’t understand, but Patty… he didn’t hide. Not really. He wore his mystery like a crown, letting just enough slip to make you wonder, to make you ask more questions than you could answer.

And I wasn’t sure yet if that was a good thing or a bad one. But I had a feeling I was about to find out.