He was an average, inconspicuous man. He had a bald head with small beady eyes and thick, long lashes. He had a long aquiline nose on which rested very expensive gold rimmed spectacles. He was wearing a black frock with a white collar. He was a priest! It was unbelievable. I never would have come here if I knew that I would meet a priest.
I had come here thinking that I would meet a real doctor, but instead it seems I came for a confession. Why would a priest claim to be a love doctor? You see, I had this terrible sickness that needed a cure. I’d tried so many things in hopes that I would be all right. But each remedy was fake, each was a trick. My sickness persisted.
“Good afternoon, young man,“ he said, with a wide smile that stretched the length of his tranquil face. “How may I be of use to you?”
Without knowing why, I became rude to him. Perhaps, because I was still surprised to see a priest posing as a love doctor. I answered, “You tell me. The advert said you had the remedy to cure the problem of love.”
“Indeed, I do. But people come to me for different reasons, so permit me to ask: have you come here seeking for the remedy for love, or is there something else that you came for?”
The way he was so calm, so collected in asking and answering questions rankled me. But since he was playing a game of being calm, I decided to play it too. Two people can play the game as well as one.
“I seek the remedy for love,” I replied, and to further disrupt his composure, I asked, “How much does it cost?”

Read more ➡️ https://www.thezenpens.com/2018/11/30/the-remedy-for-love-a-short-story-by-somtoochukwu-benedict-ezioha/

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