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Flash Fiction Of The Day: Nostalgia

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Primary school for me was learning the times table, writing compositions, getting caned, and Anu, my seat partner. We ate together, swapped home stories and after school, we just kept  talking till my mum or dad came to pick me up.

That’s the part I hated. Having to leave her behind, every single day. Her parents always came late so I never got see them, but she saw mine.

My classmates called us “husband and wife” to mock. I hated when they said, but deep down, I loved it.
One day, Anu didn’t show up in school.

The teacher said she had been transferred to another school. I still remember the lump in my throat and how it disappeared when I cried my eyes out in the toilet.

We were friends for just one term and that was the period I remember the most from primary school.
I never saw her again. Not until now.

Between then and now was secondary school, University, National Service. Now is at a wedding. She, a bridesmaid, and me, a  guest of the groom.

She didn’t change, but blossomed. I see her just as my jollof rice reaches my table. The lump is back, only this time, its excitement. I struggle to sit still, and fail. In seconds, I’m walking up to her, not leaving a single care in the Universe for my jollof.

She looks at me, trying to put a memory to my face. I have a beard so I won’t blame her.
‘Ebuka,’ I say, ‘we went to primary school together.’

Silence. Silence even with all the music and people screaming for food.
“I’m sorry. I suck at remembering stuff, but its great to s…”

Everything she said after belonged in the silence.

The lump. Again.

I need my jollof rice.

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