Paul Took Offense

He looked through his eyelids, eyelids that had stretched horizontally to frame the line between the sky and plain.  In the night, he heard lions.  Now that the sun was coming up, he could see the antlers twist in chorus against the wind.  They had appetites, these lions, and the gazelles were none the wiser.  Lions were sleepy animals, unless they were starving.  The morning was welcome.  It was cool.

One of the gazelles would die.  At least one would die, or the lions would.  Well, they all eventually would, but one or the other would suffer some fate in the process.  Well, they would all find some fate, but one may be more immediately painful than the next.  Paul closed his eyes. 

It wasn't his problem right now.  He had to walk to get there early to collect some rice.  Zizania, his daughter needed it.  Temitope could use the rest she was taking.  His wife had sleepy eyes like a lion.  He could work for life.  There were some old coffee.  It was mostly water, but even the dirty coffee water was good. 

As he set out, he looked across the fields again.  Gazelles were still there.  So were the lions, he imagined.  That's the way it goes.  At least there was water.  If he had a son, Paul would name him Wanjilanko.

On his way home, he saw the gazelles from well up the road.  It was warm and they were slower, and perhaps less nervous.  He would try to kill one of them.  He only had two rounds, and his rifle was very low caliber.  It was mostly supposed to be for protection.  Against what, he thought, more than being hungry, did he need protection?

When he got home, Temitope was pleased.  She was still a little bitchy though, exhausted by Zizania's antics.