THREADED

as in a

and stammering an apology. She had damaged the top of Kemfon's expensiv

s a mistake. I didn't know t

on cut in sharply. "Do you reali

mumbling more apologies, her

The studio buzzed with activity-snippets of fabric on the floor, the hum of machines, tailors bent over tables, and stylists

r wrappers and bold accessories, Kemfon had developed a genuine passion for fashion design from an

asy. She started small: sketching for hours, sourcing fabrics from Lagos markets, sewing until her fingers ached. But her gift couldn't stay hidden for long.

ts, she still subtly supported her. She supplied her with expensive fabrics from her numerous business connec

s. "Why is this outfit so sparsely beaded? Did you borrow be

manager quickly assured her, com

oked or the embellishments were off. She wasn't a perfectionist by

rked suddenly. "W

, ma," Shalewa responde

the plate of food. Her mood was already sour, and the hunger only made t

t so hot?" she whined, looking around li

orm, especially when ordered from the buka down

e asked, her voice

n said immediately, scurrying a

ice door burst ope

ud voice filled the room as she made her way s

ing a chair, she scooped a spoonful into her mouth

. "Ever heard of 'knock knock'?"

ed with a shrug, speaking

ma'am," Kemfon answe

r spoon. "Anyway, today is Friday, and

Kemfon asked, c

nty, you must go out. I don't care if you fall sick. This weekend, you're

to protest but Seima d

nuary. It's now June, and I've only seen

ested weakly, pointing toward th

pretending to enjoy loud music, and sweating under

already correcting the beading issue. "From what I've seen, your supervi

hasis, her finger jabbing dramaticall

the spicy food but from the rising anxiety. She coul

ghts, smell the perfume-clouded air. Parties weren't her sc

small, hidden part of her wanted to