The Thing within A Circle (Episode 3) By Joseph-Sam Sarah.

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'How are you, Ene?'
The smiling face at the door asked, his brow narrowed suspiciously. You stood mute like the question was rhetorical but you let him in smiling, a smile of curiosity and wonder.

 Food was served, plain rice and stew, the aroma swept your eager thought and washed down the hunger residing in your stomach. Eating slowly, your sister's laughter diluted the stillness of the room while the other two adults winced with finny gestures. Their loud discussions echoed and vibrated continuously, voices shook and creak until the fading evening gave way to nightfall and their noises ceased to humid quietness.
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 Sunday came quickly, bringing cold to the bare skin. The tiled compound looked wet as you stepped out from the kitchen door to give Mrs. Oluwagbenga the meat stock she had always wanted.
Sauntering into their excessive kitchen, she smiled and giggled at the threaded hair your mom had plaited for you that morning. Not wanting to condemn her amusement, you smiled, then laughed. The Irish potatoes she gave made you feel obliged to continuously open the door to her son every Saturday night  after playing football with his friends at the next compound.
 You sat together with your sister and tobun at the back seat of your mother's newly polished Peugeot 504 while the two chatting mothers sat at the front  with their unwanted poke nosing habit. Bike men horned and maneuvered through the traffic jam at the Ayetoro market "Round and Go" not minding the risk.
Your sister and tobun locked hands while reading the colourful designed THE CITY PEOPLE magazine, pointing at celebrities that looks rather false than true with their exotic appearances occupying more space than the written interview itself.
  'Hope you both are getting prepared for the upcoming examination?'. Tobun's mom turned to the two absent minded serious faces.
 'Yes mah'. They chorused.
 'She would go to Lagos state university (LASU)'. Your mother interrupted.
 'I know of a senior lecturer there, Nigeria admission is all about having long legs now'. She added.
 'Yes, that's true. Tobun chose there too. They would make it this year in Jesus name!'.
 'Amen!' Everyone chorused loudly.
Your mother's AMEN had shunned the dozing slumber out of your eyes. It is her usual camouflage activeness, not a type to be prayer serious. The faith assembly church is a place of more praises less prayers.

 The service was boring as usual, pithily expressed, praise and worship too sonorous to hearing and the offerings in continuous collection.

 Every evenings, you sit at the dinning table painting anything in textbooks, your mom and the neighbour flip through some old journal and articles while the rather rowdy than serious youths moan at the balcony upstairs, books left untouched on the table, emotions and romance hovers around as their youthful exorbitance led them astray.
Things would have been normal, simple, non-accusingly precarious if she Ojimah had not been indisposed before her Joint Admission Matriculation Board (JAMB) Examination.
  Three weeks to her exams, she had complained of toothache. Tobun's mom had helped with some antibiotics and pain relievers. Always groaning in pains, you were told to look after her. You noticed her teeth were absolutely fine but was obviously suffering from complications. She had aborted a pregnancy, a child you knew was for Tobun. Your sister had lied to the nurse that could help her.

**************To Be Continued.