“Premedi–” what? Nope. Totally not. The prosecution counsel must be seriously mistaken.
He even alluded at me being probably non compos mentis. What’s with the name-calling? I ain’t mentally incompetent! How else can I convince this court (and you, dear reader) that it—whatever I’m defending myself against—was not done with even a tinge of malicious intent?
Our height above sea level was a little shy of a thousand feet. Being alone offered this epic, comforting quietude that was a poignant contrast to the surging, raging body of water miles beneath us. A solemn, intimate evening for her and I, the glowing semicircle in the far distance stole glances at us as it retired reluctantly into the horizon. Her zephyr-caressed hair fluttered tenderly as a duo of birds glided across the sky, chirping away with abandon—their echoes reminiscent of a lover strumming his banjo to the tune of an impassioned serenade. What a perfect reconciliation venue it was!
Relationships have hitches; an occasional bickering is not out of place, she had breathed. She only needed me, she had added, to encourage her more, give her a listening ear more than anything else. If I listened more, and do not judge her needlessly, we’d have fewer issues. I melted, promising to no longer allow her rile me so much I’d begin to take it out on her.
So please, can any true gentleman stay mad at his lady, or deny her wish—any at all—in such sublime, vulnerable atmosphere? Eh? Oh, plenty thanks; I believed you would see it my way too.
Only that the judge appears to have a hard time being convinced. And at tomorrow morning’s verdict, my sentence or acquittal would depend on it.
You still are puzzled about what exactly could qualify as “premeditated” in what I had done? Me too.
We had both agreed, while still on the rock that I would cease making pet peeves out of every little thing she did wrong; sometimes she doesn’t know better. A little understanding, a little more motivation I should offer.
“Truth is, Darling,” I remember her putting it quite movingly, “it might amaze you that all I really ache for often-times, even now, is that you learn to lovingly give me a little push…”
And with all the love I could muster from within, I had nudged her off the cliff.
Writer: Bunmi Oke