Locking my eyes with her watery ones, hating those tears, I wiped them first before entwining our hands again as I gave them a firm squeeze for assurance.

Becoming dire, I forced down the lump in my throat and started explaining.

“People admire me because I have done something for them, poor people love me because I donate, orphans love me because I built orphanages, old people because of their old homes and the list goes on, okay?”

“Okay…”

Pausing, I noticed she was only befuddled where I was leading this conversation as I reached the main context-

“The thing is everyone has a reason to consider me a saint....