She walked into the lounge at 5:09pm.
I know because I was chatting with a friend via whatsapp when I caught a whiff of her perfume. She smelled like a florists shop at dawn when the windows were swung open to let the fresh morning breeze in.
She made her way through the room her black trench coat spreading her scent around the room.
Her hair was cropped short, but she had braids falling on the right side of her face, revealing big eyes that did not meet anyone’s gaze.
She settled at the front and picked the microphone.
The patron stood up rushing towards her.
She did not flinch, but she stared straight into his eyes and he stopped then nodded at the Deejay who turned up her microphone.
And as I sipped my coffee, her voice started with
So this is my apology, for saying all those shady things, I wish didn’t really mean, I’m sorry I’m not sorry
Then she took a deep breath and held the microphone a few inches from her face, and as we watched, her hand dropped and she stayed there, her head hung…I held my breath.
My friend pushed me, “Is she crying?”
I turned to face the front with my phone in my hands waiting. I looked around the room, there were people who had stopped drinking and chatting who were as mesmerized as me.
She sniffed, and brushed the braids off her face and continued singing Kelly Clarkson’s Someone and she had us listening but what I could feel was her bleeding heart.
And when she was done, she stood and walked out the same way she walked in. The difference was that instead of her flowery scent, the room was filled with the pieces of her broken heart.