There are different types of cold that would catch you in this life.

Harmattan cold and rain-beat-you cold.

The worst cold that would ever catch you is the cold from this type of text message.

Baby, I’m pregnant. It’s yours.

This type of cold can never leave you.

Or me.

Pregnant?

How can she be pregnant?

I’m just sixteen, what do I know about being a dad?

I don’t even know how to fuck.

She opened her legs, I moved around, and it was over sharp.

Less than sixty seconds, she said.

Are you not going to reply my message?

Reply her message and say what? Sorry?

This girl wants to set me up, sha.

Coming to me with pregnancy. As how nau?

If you don’t reply my message thunder will fire you.

Thunder has already fired me. My body has not moved since I read her text. I’ve not even blinked. How can I with this lightning she sent my way?