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Stephen woke up tardy. He was tired and very weak. Maybe, it was the result of over-reading that he had passed through for almost three to four weeks. He managed to walk to the bathroom to brush and cleanse his face. He went back to his room to clean his room. He cleaned his living room and washed some of his clothes. And after pleasing his mind about all household tasks, he had his bath and then dressed up unceremoniously. He went to his father芒聙聶s studio to read. For his father was a pianist, artist and also a civil servant. But his father loved books and drawings. Maybe he might have inherited this from his father. He picked a book about a man called Awolowo. He was a lawyer and at the same time, one of the foremost Nigerian Nationalist, who fought effortlessly for the independent of Nigeria. The man was also a leader that was concerned about the didactic level of his people. And as a result of this, he established educational institutions for his people. Maybe University of Yoruba was one of them. He read so much about Awolowo for almost three hours. He finally quitted reading this man芒聙聶s life, as he was struck by hunger. Before saying, 芒聙聹Jack芒聙聺, it was hours of daylight. Lunch was already primed by his mother. It was a meal of amala and efo soup. This has never been Stephen芒聙聶s best meal, yet he had no alternative but to eat; because in Africa, a child eats whatever his or her parents, gives to him or her. He ate the meal and even finished the meal. This he did to the extent that, his plate was already washed by him. Yet he claimed the meal was not to his taste. He claimed that he did all he did out of frustration and acidic attack from starvation.
It was past eight when Stephen woke up. He went without impediment to the kitchen to get something to eat. It was his beloved food. While eating, he thought of the girl that sat beside him. He spoke gently in his mind, trying to figure out why he was unwilling to have asked her name. Without much problem, he said adieu to the food because he was beleaguered by the eccentric feelings for this lady. His father was on his couch reading a novel. His mother was with some neighbours discussing. He slept inaudibly on his bed, staring into the ceiling, recounting those few minutes he spent with that unfamiliar girl. It was like yesterday, when he saw her. But what continued to amuse Stephen was that, the girl only came to write the final exams in his school. And it芒聙聶s not as if they have had anything 芒聙聹as one芒聙聺. All of a sudden, the lexis of an anonymous poet came to his mind;
芒聙聹Love is enigmatic芒聙娄芒聙聺
He was wondering if he had been enamoured by her gorgeousness or by desire or by mania. And if actually it is as a result of her good looks; and if it is an unadulterated likeness, then it may result into true feelings of affection. But Stephen wondered if he was ready to accept and reciprocate a true love. He became a toast of puzzlement to himself. And he prayed gravely in his mind for a guide from his sentinel seraph, his father. Stephen was worried and petrified of falling into love once again. Although his father had thought his boy was as naive as a pope. But Stephen knew he was as guilty as the fallen angels. He芒聙聶s being a very talented chap. And he has once been a party person. To hit the nail on the head, Stephen had once being a very mischievous and morally thoughtless person. He knew he had a talent to dance, to sing, to write poems, and to make people happy. But he had used all, wrongly. Stephen had once also been a fellowship member and even an executive; almost simultaneously with his naughty days of parties. Stephen芒聙聶s mind was running fast with all these said thoughts. He actually never believed he would one day be a man of gentle or no words. He became a born-again. He refused to be wild but accepted to become weird. All these made him sick. He was sick of his past life, of his present life but hopefully happy about the future. He thought of going to the living room to watch television with others, but he wanted no noise. Finally he opted to go to his room, to have a nice sleep.
Soon, Stephen was carried away by sleep. He slept like a baby. Probably because Stephen had a heart like that of a baby; he was fogged up by his blanket. In his dreams, he continued seeing the reminiscence of this lady. And so Stephen slept. But if he had known what would become of him in and after his dream, probably he might not have slept. Stephen, the love-scribe!