Kiki Rubiri and Nicole Wanjiru, two best friends, are aware of how hazy and routine life may become in Nairobi's streets. But Kiki and Nicole question why the painter suddenly chose muted hues while gusts of wind tremble their sad selves in the guise of new prospects and, of course, men. Nicole could clearly hear her heartbeat's tonal variations. It was neither pleasant nor like smooth asphalt. The whole opposite was true. She visualised a bumpy route, a tough chassis, and deep crevices. a perilous journey. She was concerned that her heart would stop. Already hanging onto her frock for support, her legs were a shaky pair. Nicole's mind was obviously a dirty pool of water. It simply wasn't working anymore. Both Jane Austen and her mother would feel let down. Nicole was never the assertive kind of lady. She had always imagined herself to be as subdued as the sun's rays just before nightfall. She was surprised by her wanton behaviour today and readily put it down to the good mood and possibly Wayne's minty breath hitting her exposed clavicle like a gust of wind on a tree with weak branches.