This goes out to an amazing friend, Faridah Ilyas. No matter how far we are from each other, you'll always be close in my heart and thoughts.
Nadia
Farha had moved in the day after, since Kat didn't want the landlord
giving her any more trouble.
We spent the whole day arranging her things in her new room and it was awfully fun. We had silly arguments, over how to organize her clothes and other personal belongings.
There were lots of pillow fights, smacking one another around like kids.
The two of them had made a little show of singing and dancing to silly songs; Farha's jigida outlining her slim waist, as she kept on jumping on the bed with Kat.
I served as the audience, laughing till my stomach hurt at their childish behaviours and throwing pillows at them. I ended up spending the night there, since I'd lost track of time and they insisted I slept over.
I can't believe it's been two weeks, or three, since I'd told Huda about the anniversary.
I'll definitely have to visit her soon, to go over the decorating plans.
She'd studied interior design and hospitality management in two different schools, along with a year of working as an apprentice for 'Talia Event Management&Decor'. So she's really qualified for it and it'd cost less too.
I twirl my pen around my fingers, it's tip constantly hitting the back of my hand.
My eyes take in the words in my notebook, trying to grasp the numerous figures and formulas I'd scribbled down in class.
I've been studying for hours, with nothing to keep me company other than the soft sounds drifting from the speakers. 'The Sound of Silence', by The Muses. It's a bit like classical music, only with a twist of pop and jazz. I find the harmony of the instruments soothing and calming.
The house is eerily quiet, mom and dad having gone to bed early and I'd started reading right after observing my Isha and Witr prayers.
The street lights cast an orange glow on the windows and I can hear the voices of people outside, probably enjoying the beautiful night. I'd be out too marvelling at the stars, if I wasn't holed up in here. The streets of Abuja almost never sleep at all; bars are open, suya and sharwarma joints are filled and CD stores rent the air with local music.
My phone's ringtone pulls me out of my thoughts and I rush to find it. I have to shuffle around piles of papers, notes and textbooks in an attempt to search for it on the cramped desk. I finally dig it up from under crumpled pieces of papers.
"Hello? Salamualaikum", Aunty Sima's voice comes through the line.
"Wa'alaki salam, Aunty Sima", I reply. I subtly glance at the clock to check what time it is and it says 11:36pm. Why is she calling at this hour?
"I hope I didn't wake you Nadia", She inquires, her tone gentle.
"No, aunty. But is everything alright?", my mind starts reeling back and forth. "The orphanage?, the kids? What's wrong?", I rush out.
I'm sitting on the edge of my chair, anticipating what she has to say.
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