He jerked up from his bed only to be greeted by the piercing ringing of his alarm. He looked around, took in his surrounding and heaved a sigh of relief.

 

He felt at ease in the familiar confines of his room, the bed on which he sat by the corner, the lamp which gave off a dim glow, the rack where he had neatly arranged his clothes and valuables, and the table and chair which were his only furniture. At least here, he was in control!

 

He once had a dream, a dream as big as the waters that covered the earth. His fire had burned too low. He had lived life, had fun, and was a graduate with a third class. The past had been fun, and the fun had stayed with the past. He rose alongside a million others to the monotony of the world they had wrought. Work, work, home, sleep, work…

By Omobolaji Olofinnika