Chilling with the BROS for Sunday rituals.

It's Sunday once more and it's time for me and my guys to chilling and recount how the week hustle was and merry abit because life is short. After recovering from the robbery event of first week of December now am always on the watch and strive to play it safe at all time. Hanging in a new spot know as Tripple A located along asaba onitsha road for those familiar with asaba Nigeria.

I choose to go soft hard with flying fish a new band of beer that is produced by Nigeria brewies, the it's sweet with low achohol content of about 4.2% which is moderate as am also driving and I need to get home in one piece.

The crisp autumn air carried the scent of fallen leaves and wood smoke as I pedaled my bike towards my friend's place, a six-pack of Flying Fish nestled securely in my backpack. The golden rays of the setting sun cast long shadows across the sidewalk, and the world seemed to hum with a gentle quietude.

Anticipation bubbled in my chest, a counterpoint to the cool air nipping at my cheeks. Tonight was our usual weekly gathering, a ritual as sacred as any religious ceremony. We'd gather on someone's account, huddled around a fire pit, sharing stories, laughter, and the occasional philosophical debate fueled by good beer and good company.

We talked about everything ranging from politics sports and women offcost nothing on our voices weaving a tapestry of shared experiences and dreams. We laughed until tears streamed down our faces, and pondered the mysteries of the things happening in our country with the seriousness of children. The fire crackled and whispered, its warmth radiating outwards, enveloping us in its comforting embrace.

Hours melted away like snowflakes on a warm stove top, It wasn't a fancy gathering, with elaborate decorations or gourmet food. It was simply a group of friends coming together, sharing a few beers and a whole lot of laughter and love. And in that simplicity, there was a beauty and a richness that no amount of money could ever buy.

As I left @unlimited921 and the others in the table , the air was a bit colder, the fire's warmth a fading memory. But the warmth in my heart, the glow of friendship and shared experience, that would stay with me long after the last drop of Flying Fish had been consumed. And I knew, with a certainty that settled into my bones, that I was truly lucky. Lucky to have these people in my life, these moments to cherish, and this simple, perfect happiness that a cool Sunday evening, good friends, and a few bottles of Flying Fish could create.