"Kunle, Kunle," came a deep voice.
Kunle was standing near the edge of the living room, just beside the tall window where sunlight spilled in like golden syrup across the marble floor. He was animatedly gesturing toward the curtains—thick, luxurious drapes in a muted olive green that shimmered ever so slightly in the light.
"You see this curtain ehn," Kunle began, hands moving as though trying to shape the words he wasn't quite sure of. "This one is not the regular kind o. I don't even know the name, but it's those foreign types—imported, I think. The woman that brought it, she said it's not common at all. Something like velvet, but not really. Sha, when you touch it, it's like it responds to your hand."
Daniel leaned forward slightly, his eyes curious, even excited. "It's really nice," he said, brushing his hand lightly across the fabric. "Feels soft, but strong too."
