A date is something you pluck out from the calendar of your heart not the vanity of your head like I did when Alero’s feet touched the country after a long-long time.

We were plastic lovers in secondary school. It was not something to be envious of. I was a live-in student, stayed in one of the dormitories while she took the monstrous school bus home and followed it back.

Like most boys, I was too big to play on the field and too unserious to be caught looking at book pages in the library. I was in the Arts, she was in the Sciences. So, we saw only in a derelict lab full of spider webs.

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