Little things like this wandering six-footer teenage girl I met today. Sitting with friends at one of the local bars, she sat with us briefly because one of my friends had beckoned on her to come. He asked her name, where she's from, and said she could go. But I had noticed she was a little shaky inside her large denim jacket which showed only the tips of her fingers; the lower eyelid of her right eye holding tears on the verge of dropping.
Concerned because my friends speculated she may be under the influence of pills, I walked up to her as she was leaving and asked ifshe was okay. She said she was fine. I asked if she was in any formof distress. She said she just needed transport money to go to Mile 3. I took her back to our table and probed a little further. She said she had "small malaria" but declined my offer to get her medical help. One of my friends gave her a two-hundred naira note while I scribbled my phone number on paper and asked her to call if she ever needs help.
When she left, one of my friends said he sees her around always; that he once saw her walking around at about 1am, and that he hadseen a random guy slap her by the road another time. He said she was fine and must have taken Roachie (I don't know if I spelled thatright). The other said she should be a runaway, probably from the village.
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