Lost in Thought

It was already half past seven, and the rains were still pouring down. Half upset, I decided to soldier home under the cold air that irritated me.

Wanting to go home at the earliest time possible, I signaled the very first jeep I saw to stop. A passenger alighted the vehicle, but an old man sneaked past me and took the vacant seat. With my patience at its end, I was about to descend from the vehicle when the driver shouted there was room for one more. But the truth was there was only room for my bag.

I asked for patience. I was being given reasons to be patient.

With the rain dying down to a drizzle, I grunted at the driver to let me get off. I picked up my pace and was soon clambering down on the low seat of a tricycle. My patience was really being stretched to its limits, as I was getting frustrated about the most trivial of things. I just wanted to go home, that was all.

The tricycle driver asked me what street I wanted to go. Usually, I automatically say the street I live in, but this time, my tongue fumbled and my consciousness suddenly scattered. I mumbled a jumble of illiterate words before the driver understood what I said.

I just wanted to go home. But why did I want to get home that bad?