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My name is Esan

My name is Esan, that was how he always introduced himself staring unblinkingly as he offered a handshake.
He woke up with the smell in his nostrils, burning flesh and screams. He had never been able to make sense of the dream. Sometimes he wondered if he should see a psychologist to analyze the meaning of the dream to him. He turned his lips in contempt wondering what was buried so deep in his subconscious that he should have such nightmares.
He had his bath and hurried off to work. Today was post-mortem at his department and he knew one of his programmes was slated for the post-mortem. He was not really sure if he had given the programme the type of editing that would please him. Mr. Sunny, the senior producer always wanted him to perform well and he liked to please the guy once in a while..
There was also a master class coming up at the weekend and he sighed knowing Tumi was going to protest again. Thinking of Tumi was a good feeling he wrapped around his groin and enjoyed the lazy sensations it gave him. He shrugged her off his body and slipped on his shirt for the meeting.
Minutes later, he was seated with the rest of the programme’s staff as they waited for Mr. Sunny to come in. Liz gave him a once over and he returned the look with a grin. Liz, luscious, available and dangerous, with eyes that reminded you of a Chinese cat. ‘What does a Chinese cat look like?’
‘You’ had been his reply when she had asked one night
‘You are mad’ she had replied running her fingers over her face and looking at him with desire.
He stepped away from her and those thoughts as his boss came in.
She wasn’t exactly pretty and he had remained blank about her obvious desire to be more than a friendly colleague, but today, for no reason, she had laughed as if something was amusing.
‘Care to tell me why you are in front of my house, calling me and staring? Tumi demanded and Esan stared in shock
‘I actually came here?’
‘Have you been sleepwalking again’? Tumi asked not particularly shocked
He replied to her that he was not sleepwalking but a tiny frill of fear feathered down his spine. Am I awake or still sleeping?
Tumi opened the door for him to walk in and offered him a warm drink. He sipped his drink and the smell hit him, burning flesh and smoke. He dropped the drink and rushed for the bathroom, and retched repeatedly. Tumi’s hand was on the back of his shoulder and it felt hot.
He straightened up and found himself in his bedroom on his own bed. His bed was wet and he still smelled the burning flesh. It was the same nightmare. Second time today he said to himself.
TO BE CONTINUED

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