It was a cold morning as expected, all foggy and dusty. The harmattan had already set in and Christmas around the corner.
Emeka couldn't wait for the day to set in. It was the last day of school for the year, and the day results would be collected.
All through the week, he kept reminding his father of the promised "top of the class" present, alongside the Christmas present that had almost become an annual ritual.
He got out of bed before anyone that day. Waking his brothers up, he rushed off to school without breakfast. All he wanted was to get back from school before his father left to hunt.
On his way back, he noticed he hadn't seen his brothers in school. "They must have skipped," he thought. It was a tradition for his brothers to skip school on the last day. Their results were always bad.
Getting home, a loud wail welcomed him. His father had died that morning. He was dead even before he left for school.
It was two days to Christmas, and Emeka's world had just turned into a sorrowful one. Christmas came with an ugly call that year. The call never changed for Emeka, ever.
