“That which is about to unfold on this road. That’s Mildi.”
Safiyy slipped a ward of cash into the little girl’s pocket—resting his index finger vertically against his lips with a smile on his face.
“Do you understand what you have to do?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are your two friends also ready?”
“Good girl.”
Safiyy walked on, accelerating in Mildi’s direction whom he spotted walking on the sidewalk with a little girl’s hands lodged in her palm.
“Mildi, there you are. Do you remember me?”
“The fried chicken guy.”
“The one and the same.”
“I’m not Mildi though—my name is Mary—Mary is my name. I’m not sure why you keep calling me Mildi.”
Crouching down next to the little girl, Safiyy said, “And here we have Rivulet the Great. Your bangs are not hurting anymore, I hope.” Safiyy brushed her bangs with his finger.
“How do you know her name?” Mildi asked anxiously.
“Mom, mister is a sir … substi … substi—I forgot the word!— teacher. He comes to our class when miss is not there. Mister, I danced, I danced! You saw. Tell her.”
“Your wish is my command, Miss Rivulet the Great,” said Safiyy, assuming a knight-like pose before her.
“You’re a teacher at her school?”
“She’s my teacher at my school. We’ve formed something of an alliance, Mildi. You should have been there. When they had a dance performance for the class one grade above hers, she joined in and danced with more zeal, more fervour than the school has ever seen in a child,” Safiyy said before turning to Rivulet. “What’s the catchphrase, your little majesty?”
“Ooooh lala!” Rivulet hummed.
“Who are you, and who is this Mildi?”
“Who is Mildi? Do you really want to know?”
“Tell me.”
Safiyy pointed to the road and said, “That which is about to unfold on this road. That’s Mildi.”
When Mildi directed her attention to the road, she saw a little girl speeding down the road on her bicycle and two girls bicycling towards her from the opposite end. As soon as the little girl got near the other two girls, she lifted her feet off the pedals, almost horizontally, screaming her lungs out with mischievous joy. The other two girl screamed their lungs out in return but with growing panic, unsure of how to make sense of this wild bicyclist barrelling straight towards them. Before a collision could take place, the little girl who had abandoned her pedals steered her bicycle away and drove off.
Mildi smiled.
“How is that—” Mildi started saying before realizing that Safiyy had vanished.
“What was that, mommy?”
“Have you ever heard of Déjà vu, my pumpkin? What did mister teach you guys in class?”
“A poem. He made everyone in class memorize a poem.”
“What poem? Can you recite it for me?”
“Let me try to remember. Hmmm… Love is here in this garden for those who are stubborn, stubborn to be beautiful. I’m stubborn, aren’t I, mommy?”
“Who wrote this poem, my little angel?”
“Mister said a poet. The most beautiful poet who ever lived.”
“Which poet?”
“Pooh.”
“Pooh?”
“Yes, mommy. Mildi Pooh.”
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