THE LAST DAYS.

The air crackled with unspoken words, the silence thick enough to taste. Every breath felt held, a taut string ready to snap. I could sense the stillness and emptines of the room. One would think I was preparing for war or perhaps; mourning a cheating husband. But here I was, lost in my own thoughts like never before. And this was one of them.

In the midst of my disturbed thoughts, I sighted a book I had casually tossed into the book shelf a quinquennium ago.

I looked away.

My mind paced for a moment before I finally lifted myself to pick it up.

It was Mohammed’s LAST DAYS AT FORCADO HIGH SCHOOL.

I wonder why JAMB made us read this high school novel before the CBT. Well, turned out that I loved it so much. No! scratch that. I’ve lived the life. I see myself as a character. What was meant to be a supposed sarcasm, turned rea-li-ty.

I was leaving the system. The culture. The people. Never really thought it was going to sting much. Perhaps I had grown a certain level of attachment to the place.

Everyday smiled at me like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. Except that in mine, it was fact-checked.

It was an expiring date.

Then, it dawned on me. LEGACIES.

what were my Legacies? Where were my footprints? Was it in the hearts of people? Or in their asses?

Truly, this was my LAST DAYS! The final lap, the last race. 100 meters boys and girls.

I looked around one last time. Took in a deep breath of relief. Because I have memories. I have all the love, all the experiences to survive wherever life takes me next.

I was the JIMI SOLADE of 2025.

I walked away into dimmed light with pride because I was definitely making the most of the counting days.

Dedicated to my Friend;

NTIA, Uwakmfon.