“Stop staring, Leila.” Abby snapped her fingers to bring her Nigerian friend out of her daydream. She was staring intently at a guy; her mouth was slightly open.
“I wasn’t! I don’t even like him like that,” Leila blushed, her lips curved into a smile, showing off her dimples.
“Just talk to him already. You can never tell.”
The 218 will be 10 years this year—10 whole years of real friendship. Tears, sweat, laughter, love, and pain, but one thing has kept us together, the love of Christ. It’s a good day to tell you about how we met, especially for those of you, who don’t know. Please note that this is just my narration, as told from my perspective. About 10 years ago, we had finished our diploma, the strike was over, and we were about to resume 200-level direct entry. Diploma year was tough for me.
Zara opened her eyes in horror, jumped off the bed and ran to the toilet. She pulled down the toilet seat and threw up as much as she could. It was the same dream. How could she have the same dream intermittently for the past 1 year? The details were the same. A woman in a burnt orange Hijab- holding on tightly to a young girl of about 6 years while pushing 10-year-old Zara away. They were in an apartment and were standing at the corner of the living room. It was dark and difficult to make out the faces.
