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They sat in a circle. The smell of cheap rum and cannabis hung thick in the air. They were high. They were happy.
Four young men who had endured four years of everything. Four years of pain. Four years of joy. Four years of night classes in mosquito riddled classrooms. Four years of anxiety as they waited for each result every semester. Four years of registrations. Of hard work. It was almost over. For three of the four.
They told drunken tales under the stars. Stories of the loves they'd won and lost. Funny stories. Of things they would always remember fondly. Stories of regret. Of things they never got to do.
They shared secrets. Things they would never tell anyone else.
"I could not believe her. She just came up to me and told me she loves me." The comic one of the bunch reported. Reminiscing.
They all laughed at this. They'd heard this story before.
"Na year one be that sha." He continued.
"She for no fit come try am now."
The conversation flowed. One topic and then another. They'd run out of alcohol. Time was no longer important. They had enough of it now to spare. Also, they never knew if they would ever get to sit together like that ever again.
Four young men, once four naive boys. They gained knowledge and became men with aspirations. The key to the universe had just been handed to them. All they had to do was decide what to do with it.
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