We are at it again. We start off calmly, slipping in sentence after sentence; phrase after phrase; word after word. You ask why I spoke with a tone of frustration- was I tired of you?

I giggle. ‘You’re overreacting … Relax,’ I say. You smirk and nod repeatedly. Now we’re really getting started.

‘Look, I’m sorry. It’s just that I hate having to repeat things I’ve already told you. You know how annoying that is. You complain when I do it too.’

‘It’s okay. I complain when you do it too. So every little chance you get, you must show revenge. I see.’

‘Oh c’mon. You know that’s not what I mean. Stop overreacting.’

‘Oh yes, Ophelia the over reactor. Ha-ha. You should nickname me, you know. Call me Oh-Oh … Overreacting Ophelia. Double Oh. Ha-ha.’

‘Okay, listen. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.’

‘Slow down on the promises, mister man. We’ve heard them before. “It won’t happen again. That was the last time.” …  Apii.’

‘Ophelia I said I’m sorry. What is this! Stop getting so emotional, please!’

‘Ha-ha. Okay. I hear you. I won’t get emotional. I’ll be like you. Mister Anti-emotional-yet-I’ll-snap-at-the-smallest-thing. I’ll be like you wai.’

‘Why do you have to be like this all the time?’

‘Be like what, Kweku? Why do I have to be like what?’

‘You, it’s okay. Never mind.’

‘Ha-ha. I knew it. Mister Kweku-it’s-okay. Mister Kweku-never-mind. I dey feel you roff-roff!’

I smirk at your sarcasm, and sew my lips shut for the rest of the drive back to your house. You get off and we make no effort to say our goodbyes. You slam the door and slip out a caustic ‘sorry’ without parting your lips.  I watch you push your gate open and step into your house. Smiling and chuckling, I turn on the engine and drive off.

It’s not the end of the world. Our world. There is no need to stay up all night wondering if this is the tipping point of our emotional roller-coaster. It is nothing. We were just talking.