FRED
It’s already 7 AM, and I’m still at home with a meeting looming at 9.
How on earth am I going to make it on time?
Last night was a blur—I was out with the guys and left my car at Henry’s because I had a bit too much to drink.
Now, I have to take a cab and figure out how to get my car back later.
I pull out my phone to order an Uber, but of course, my luck is terrible today.
No cars available? Seriously? The only option is a shared ride.
With my hangover and grumpy mood, that’s the last thing I need.
But what choice do I have? I’m already late.
I go ahead and book the shared ride, and thankfully, the other person’s pickup location is nearby.
By the time I leave the house, it’s 8 AM.
Maybe I should have gone for a motorbike to beat the traffic, but it’s drizzling, and I really don’t want to arrive at the boardroom soaked.
Fingers crossed that everyone is running on "Kenyan time" today; that would definitely save me.
Thirty minutes in, and we’re halfway to our destination.
The woman in the car is chatting non-stop.
Who has this much energy in the morning? Honestly, I find overly bubbly people a bit cringe-worthy, especially when my day’s already off to a rough start.
"Where are you headed to?" she suddenly asks.
“Huh?” Wait, is she talking to me? Please, no! Surely my silence has been enough of a hint.
“Oh! He doesn’t talk? Is he deaf or something?” she muses, assuming I can’t hear her.
“No, no, he can hear you just fine,” I chime in.
“Ah! So he actually talks!” She laughs lightly.
“Yes, he does,” I reply, grabbing my phone and scrolling through it aimlessly.
I just need to look busy so she’ll stop talking to me.
“Don’t you just love a chilly morning? It sets such a calm vibe to start the day, right?”
“Mmh, yeah! Calm,” I nod, my eyes glued to my screen.
“I’m Lizzy, by the way,” she says, extending her hand.
“So where are you headed? I’m going all the way to Karen.
Honestly, I love shared rides! I get to meet new people, and it’s way cheaper than going solo, right?
Just imagine all the interesting folks you could meet on your daily commutes!”
All I can manage is a distracted “Mmmh, yeah.”
I notice the driver chuckling quietly in the rearview mirror.
Thankfully, Lizzy falls silent for a moment, giving me a chance to read through my emails.
I’m relieved to see that the meeting has been pushed to 10:30 AM, which gives me plenty of time to grab coffee and prepare for my pitch.
I glance at Lizzy—her gaze is fixed out the window, a slight smile on her face. For a moment, I have to admit, she looks kind of cute.
“What’s your take on cats?” She asks, enjoying how this question reveals a lot about a person.
“Cats?”
“Yes, cats. What do you think about them?”
I pause, surprised by the randomness of her question. How does she come up with these topics?
“Heh! Dere, huyu wa leo ni boring aje?” The driver looks back at her and laughs.
“Eyes on the road, please,” I say sternly, still focused on my phone.
“You know, silence means you might not even understand the question.
You can just say it—no one will think you’re stupid,” she adds, her tone a mix of teasing and challenge.
“Excuse me, what?” I turn to look at her, caught off guard.
“Huh! Did I hit a nerve? Men…” she giggles, turning her gaze back to the window.
Fifteen minutes pass, and I find myself bothered—not just by the question, but by her comment afterward.
Why does it feel like she’s probing deeper than I expected?
LIZZY
After a pause, he finally says, “Honestly, I don’t understand cats at all.”
I give a thoughtful “mmmh” in response, intrigued.
Pulling out my phone, I show him a picture of my three cats—Nyla, Luna, and Tommy.
“I have three of them! They’re such characters.”
He glances at the photo and says, “That’s a lot!”
As we chat more, I randomly ask, “So, what’s your name, Mr.?”
“Fred,” he replies, a hint of annoyance in his voice. “Just Fred, no ‘Mr.’ needed.”
“Alright, Fred without the ‘Mr.’ then,” I say playfully.
It’s nice to see him lighten up a little as we continue our conversation.
FRED
The rest of the ride passes in a blur of small talk.
Lizzy changes topics a couple of times, and I find myself mostly nodding and affirming her thoughts.
I’m still feeling a bit hungover, so engaging deeply isn’t really on my agenda.
As we approach my stop, I’m surprised by how quickly the time flew.
Just as I’m about to get out, Lizzy pushes her phone towards me.
“I enjoyed the company, Fred without the ‘Mr.’ Can I please have your number?”
At that moment, I realize how easily I’m swayed by casual conversation.
It’s almost laughable how I can go from being grumpy and hungover to giving my number to a random girl I met in a shared ride.
On my way up to the office, I keep wondering how her brain functions—she talks so effortlessly.
I bet the driver enjoyed every minute of our exchange.
I shake my head, chuckling to myself, contemplating what I’ve just done.