Tino felt trapped. It is all about the chase, not the prize. After that first phone call with Tasha, he felt caged. The eternal male curse.

They agreed to meet for brunch the following Sunday after church. Guests Cafe at eleven o’clock was the logical rendezvous. The timing was deliberate on Tino’s part. He needed time to dig through the faculty grapevine for Tasha’s academic outcome. 

By Sunday, Tino had all the information he needed. As usual, he was early. When Tasha walked into the tranquil joint, Tino stood up and withdrew the other chair. The gentlemanly persona had to be maintained. 

The place was comfortably quiet. 

“Hi Tasha”
“Hi Tino”

Back to the informal. How quaint!

Just like during dinner, the conversation was eclectic. Tino was deeply fascinated by how Tasha could weave through challenging topics with almost royal finesse. They talked about Psychology, Escatology (coincidentally, both their church services were on this topic), trousers, Cosmology, hats, Philosophy and everything in between. 

Tino decided to stick to the resolutions made during his solitary conference. He only threw subtle hints about Tasha’s results. Her demeanour betrayed the fact that she already knew how she performed.

By the time they parted ways, Tino was assured he was now in a relationship. He was now on a leash.