Miss Oyema's hair was in a tight bun today.

Romola stared at the strands of hair flowing into the bun atop her head. Not a strand was out of place. Just like everything in the office. Everything had its place and everyone had their department. Nothing mixed.

They stood in front of the main reception area where two high white stools remained behind the white desk that doubled as a display shelf.

"Alright, so when you come in the morning after prayers, you can help Mrs. Christina at the front desk if you have nothing to do. I suggest that you learn the name of each piece. You should be able to give a bit of explanation about each of them." Miss Oyema turned to her. "Can you do that?"

"Yes ma."

"And, if it wouldn't be too much work, you can clean the surface of my office and reset everything. I hope you wouldn't mind if I send you to buy food, occasionally. I love to eat out a lot."

"Ma, that's no problem."

She had done much more for Iya Tobi while recieving lesser pay; washing toilets, cleaning up Tobi's vomit, washing cats, cleaning Iya Tobi's house when one of the maids quit— those were not part of the sales girl description but she had done those things. Miss Oyema's work would be a walk in the park.

"I think that's all. Sit in that chair and let Benjamin take a photo of you."

"Ma?" Romola walked around the desk and sat on the chair, her legs swinging against the sides of the chair and not touching the floor.

"Take a photo of me?"

"Ben." Miss Oyema looked towards the hallway on the left, then raised her voice. "Benjamin?"

Romola got off the chair when a man with a golden goatee entered the room. He wore a simple yellow shirt, brown codorouys, and black loafers.

Romola sighed, staring down at the big black suit jacket she had buried herself in. Of everyone she had been introduced to that day, she was the only one dressed like she had to give a business presentation to the president. Miss Oyema wore a simple sleeveless dress that faded from white to red at the bottom.

"Alright, I'm here." Benjamin toyed with the camera strap around his neck. He posed the camera at Romola's face. "How many pictures do you need?"

Romola walked around the desk towards Miss Oyema until she stood behind the woman. Benjamin dropped his camera.

Miss Oyema turned to her. "What is the problem?"

"Why do you want to take my picture?"

"For official records. Besides," Miss Oyema placed her hand on Romola's shoulder while pointing to the wall on the right, next to the window that overlooked the outside world. "I always, put everyone's photo on the wall."

An array of framed photos took up much of the space on the wall. Miss Oyema's picture stood at the top. Underneath hers, in smaller frames, were the pictures of the admin and Mrs. Christina. Every other person's photo followed beneath it. Twelve photos and one empty frame— hers. Making it thirteen in all.

"I don't want my picture taken."

"Why?" Miss Oyema's hand dropped from Romola's shoulder. "It's just one picture. Benjamin, don't turn this this thing into a photoshoot."

Romola shook her head. Should she tell them? So far, none of them had recognized her as the girl from the videos but did she dare take the risk and tell them that her pictures and videos had made her infamous on the internet? She didn't know anything about them. How would they react? Would Miss Oyema still look at her with such calm gentle eyes if she knew?

"I don't like to take pictures." Romola shifted behind Miss Oyema. "I don't take pictures."

"I hope you're not a vampire?" Miss Oyema chuckled, then turned, placing her hands on Romola's shoulder. "Benjamin is good at what he does, so don't worry if you are not photogenic."

"No. I just—"

Benjamin cut in. "You know, I think she's camera shy. Why doesn't she just bring a passport for you?"

"A passport won't look good on the wall."

"That's easy to fix." Benjamin turned to her. "Romola, right? That's your name?"

"Yes." Her eyes flitted between his face and his camera.

"Just look into the ring box-set and pick eight."

"Benjamin," Miss Oyema said, "I don't want a photoshoot."

"Aunty, just chill. I want to try something." He walked to the box on the desk that held a mock display of some jewellery.

He picked some rings and a silver chain with a turquoise heart shaped pendant.

"Give me your hand." He stretched his hand out to hers.

She turned to Miss Oyema. The woman nodded. She placed her hand in his. He gently slid the rings into her fingers. It was a struggle to keep her hands still. There was something intimate about the gesture.

Benjamin held her other hand and slid three rings on it before wrapping the chain around the fingers of both hands so that the pendant fell towards her wrist.

"Alright. Sit on that chair and cover your face with your palms."

She did as she was told. A couple of clicks and flash later, she dropped her palms on her laps.

"This will look very good on our Instagram page." Benjamin took the camera to Miss Oyema while Romola worked hard at freeing herself from the silver chain.

"Yes but her face is not going to be on the wall."

"At least a part of her body is and it would be good for showing visitors."

"Alright. It actually looks beautiful. Post it quickly."

Romola got off the stool, then placed the jewellery back in the box. She wasn't sure where each piece went but she tried to make everything fit in a section.

"Do you want to see your picture before I print it?"

"Yes, please." She resealed the box, then turned to Benjamin.

He tilted the viewing centre of the screen in her direction. She stared at the photograph. It was just the ring and her fingers. Nothing of her face showed. She smiled. It was better this way.

If people came into the store, she could avoid looking at their faces. She could avoid looking at their judging eyes but a photo on the wall meant that they had something to stare at and it seemed that the longer they stared, the more they remembered.

She clutched her sides, turning to Miss Oyema. "So, my passport, can I bring it tomorrow?"

"No problem."

Romola knew the photo she would use. It was the same photo of her university days. Something of her younger more innocent days when she was 17 and had shorter hair. The passport photograph looked similar to her but in the way citizens of the same tribe might look similar.

"That reminds me." The older woman faced her squarely.

Romola allowed her face to drop to Miss Oyema's sandaled feet.

"Your university transcript, we didn't finish talking about it the other day."

Romola swallowed air. This was the time. But with Benjamin standing beside them, she didn't feel it was right to bring it up. He was their social media manager and a tech savvy person like him could find out more about her than she wished to reveal.

"My university is still having problems processing the transcripts of certain students. Something about a particular lecturer manipulating scores." She said.

"Oh, I hope that gets sorted soon. Can you get a letter from your form teacher? I mean, the course lecturer in charge of your graduating set?"

"No problem at all." Romola smiled.
The lies had come so easily. Even after all these years.

Where would she find her course adviser? How would she convince the woman to sign the page for her? She would think of something. She always thought of something.

"I have a meeting by 11 today. We'll talk more when I return." Miss Oyema left the main room and Romola faced the wall of employee photos.

"What's your instagram handle?" Benjamin leaned against the display shelf staring at her.

She'd forgotten about him.

She patted the wig on her head. "My handle?"

"Yes, I want to tag you on Instagram. Don't tell me you don't post photos there."

She shook her head. It had been a struggle to rescue her account from her brother and Jide. They compounded matters.

"I deactivated my account."

"Why?"

"Trolls." She hugged her jacket closer to her skin.

Trolls of all colours, sizes, of all places. Some creeps too. She had been unfortunate enough to run into one or two of them while running an errand for Iya Tobi. The disgrace was epic. The shame, unforgettable.

"Why would anyone want to troll a beautiful girl like you?"

She shrugged. It was better that the only version of Romola he knew was the version she had presented to Miss Oyema.