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4 a.m.

Freedom Flight
Naomi Nkealah

‘Where’s everyone?’ ‘Who?’ ‘My friends over there. The guys I came with.’ ‘They left.’ ‘All of them?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘When?’ ‘About twenty minutes ago.’ ‘Shit!’ I had to make a plan very fast. Where’s my bloody phone? I fished in my tiny backpack for the old handset I had been carrying around as a cellphone. I knew I had put it in one of the pockets but couldn’t remem­ ber which one. Ah, found it! Okay, whose number do I have? Ben had phoned me once but I hadn’t bothered to store the details. Oh, I had Cole’s number. Cole, Cole, Cole, where is it now? There, found it! Dial the number quickly. I hope to God he answers. Cole had never answered any of my calls before. I found out why when Pat told me she had visited him at home once and found him in his study working, with headphones on, his phone lying on a sofa in the sitting room. He wouldn’t have the headphones on right now, but he could just as well not be carrying his phone. Why do people think they call them mobile phones, for Christ’s sake?

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