Hello dear Ex,
The one who noticed my face in a crowded room, then spent the next few months loving a ghost that only existed in your head. "They call me Essy", though at the end, I was sure you had forgotten the actual person behind the label.
I still remember the night we met. It was your brother’s album listening party at Alchemist. You were the talent manager, pacing through the venue like a man carrying the weight of the whole Nairobi entertainment industry on his shoulders. The main act was late, the sound check was failing, and you looked like someone who had already calculated every single way the night could go down in flames. You weren’t really seeing anyone, just bodies, just problems to solve.
Then your eyes landed on me. I was standing off to the side, sipping a drink and chatting with people I barely knew. For a split second, the noise of the venue just faded out. You looked at me like I was the only real person in the room. That look stayed with me way longer than it should have, Kevo.
Later, after the showcase went surprisingly well and the stress finally drained from your shoulders, you were at the bar buying rounds, saying thanks, and laughing a little too loudly...