Sentiments and Schizophrenia: Where Happiness Comes to Die.

Weeks after Oyin, Bibiana was closing a deal with a potential customer when someone tapped her on the back and signaled that her attention was needed elsewhere. She excused herself and sashayed over to a black SUV inside which Oyin waited nervously. She carefully composed her features and held out her hand to him. He smiled back shyly and took it. But this time, he led her up the stairs and into the familiar room where no words were exchanged but none were needed anyway, as their bodies, a modicum of privacy and the saggy mattress were the only requirements.

Oyin drove idly through the town with no destination in mind but to leave the source of his anger behind. He and Yewande had just quarreled again. Pulling up at a red light, he scrolled absently through his phone and wasn’t surprised that since he had left her over an hour ago, she hadn’t called to ask where he was, or even apologize for her part in the quarrel. She was probably taking another selfie that would be shared as a good night treat to the numerous social network followers who eagerly awaited Wendy’s regular and often risqué pictures. Then the ladies would go to bed with envy in their hearts and tears on their cheeks, while the guys would go (or not go) to bed with lust in their eyes and their right hand down their pants.