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Thursday, 20 March 2008 |
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I sat thinking, while having my morning coffee, how of a bad girl I had been lately. I had not been to church in over six months. Mama said last night that people had begun to talk.
Our family had been in the church for two generations, with two of my uncles serving as altar boys, while my grand parent holding various positions in church committees.
I had also been in the choir since I was nine and a very active member volunteering in all activities up until 6 months ago. It was late Saturday evening; I had decided to take a leisurely walk home from the church, which is ten blocks apart. Just as I left the church compound and turned the corner on to the sidewalk, I heard a car exit the gate behind me. I didn’t bother to look and see who it was. I put on my earphones and was about to switch my mp3 player on when I hear a hoot. I turned and saw a white Ford Escort behind me, didn’t think much of it. Continued walking, then it drove up and stop right before me. I wonder why, but stopped anyway and dragged myself to the passenger side. The window came down slowly and there he sat with a smile on his face and a look to suggest interest in me. Want a lift? He asked. I looked at him a little hesitant, and then I thought to myself. What harm would a lift do me?
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Last Updated ( Thursday, 07 August 2008 )
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