This son of a man was sweating profusely. Even though he had just removed his Nike-labeled jacket. I wondered to myself what was wrong? Then I noticed his eyes flying up and down like an American F-22 Raptor pilot. It was like he was seeing an Ishmaelite woman for the first time. Seated next to her, her attire couldn’t cover her pretty face. Well, someone long ago had warned me of engaging these Ishmaelite women. This son of a man’s lips seemed to be trembling. My thoughts, this guy will explode. No sooner had I completed my thoughts did the son of a man burst his first move. “Sasa” went the son of a man. The Ishmaelite looked at him like he didn’t exist. It was like looking into an empty space. “Sasa” the son of a man persisted, but this time with a mellow voice. She responded, but only I and the conductor could hear what she said. For the third time, the son of a man now slowly with a fine-tuned voice said, “Sasa mrembo.” The Ishmaelite woman looked at me, then ...
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