#StayHome
#StaySafeNigeria
Part 1
It was sitting
beside the curb outside my apartment. A white
iPhone 4S in surprisingly good condition. I
scooped it up from the ground to get a closer
look. It probably belonged to a high school girl,
judging by the horrendously glittering purple case.
I admired the phone anyway – tacky though the
case was, it had protected its charge fairly well.
The phone had not only survived what I assumed
was a fall from a careless girl’s book bag, but it
was in pristine condition. No hairline cracks, no
dings, no dents… nothing.
As I marched into my apartment, throwing my
bag on the floor and shedding my coat and
shoes, I continued inspecting the phone.
Whoever lost it must surely be missing it. I
pressed the home button and the screen lit up.
A swipe right and I discovered that the phone
was not, in fact, locked. Thank goodness for
stupid teenage girls (ignoring, for the moment,
that I used to be exactly one of those). I
searched the contacts, found one labeled “Mom”
and pressed the call button.
Nothing.
It was as though the touch screen hadn’t
registered my fingertips. Puzzled, I pressed “call”
again. And again. Nothing.
It was at that moment that I got a call on my
own cell phone, a black iPhone 6. I swiped to
answer and the voice of my best friend reached
my ears.
“Hey, Amanda! How was your test today?”
The phone momentarily forgotten, I fell into a
deep conversation with Anna about the absolute
chaos that is university life. We chatted for a bit
about whatever things 20-something year-old
girls talk about before she got to the point.
“You busy tonight? There’s a cool club that
opened up not too long ago downtown and a few
of my friends wanna go. You should come with!”
I glanced around at the comfort of my
apartment. I was a pretty quiet person who
preferred to sit inside and read a good book, as
opposed to my outgoing Anna who was always
getting into heaps of trouble. It’s always the
story, isn’t it? Opposites attract. As much as I
wanted to stay in tonight, I smiled and agreed,
much to Anna’s squealing delight. How can I
deny a request from my best friend?
We set up plans and I hung up the phone. Then I
remembered the other phone sitting on my
couch, dejected. I picked it up and opened it to
the owner’s mother’s contact information. That’s
right! I punched the number into my own phone
and hit “call.” I could at least call this way.
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Whoa nice one....
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