Doctor Mola had had a long night and it was telling on his shoulders. They both hurt like he had been carrying heavy stones on them. He yawned and prayed silently for his eyes to keep him awake till he got to his journey's end in Kubwa. He hated the trips to Keffi and back but he needed the extra pay. Weddings these days were a do or die affair where the man did and died while the woman danced and smiled her way into his home. So far, Mola's introduction and traditional wedding had eaten deep into his resources. Now he dreaded the almighty white wedding which was coming for him in two weeks. His fiancée, on the other hand, did not care. She wanted her wedding more glamorous and more expensive than her elder sister's and had even suggested to Mola to start an abortion clinic in his house to meet up with the wedding requirements. He blatantly refused and threatened to dump her if she came up with the idea again. He prided in being a man of honor, of moral standing and of compassion. He loved God and believed all life, even in form of blood, came from heaven. It was therefore not his place to end anyone's existence just because he could.
