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Naija Heels On Cobbled Streets #7 By Olajumoke Omisore

“Get me a drink.”    Niyi told Andrew after Clara drove off. He would have darted after her if Andrew hadn’t stopped him. “That’s not a good idea. Ignore the girl. You don’t want to unleash that demon you become when you drink.” Niyi didn’t feel like a demon-to-be. He felt like a victim. The one chosen to be the butt of their joke. His head was spinning as if he had already consumed a whole barrel. “Get me a fucking drink.” Niyi shouted at Andrew with the force of the rage, ripping him apart from the inside. And as soon as Andrew disappeared back into the pub, he turned his attention to the ash bucket next to the flowerbed and kicked it so hard, its content flew into the road. He walked back in, feeling the need to curb the rage that had manifested in his balled fists. Andrew…