The professor is staring Ada down. Ada tries to keep a straight face, not meeting his eyes as she casually scribbles circles in her jotter. Her phone vibrates in her pocket for the fifth time. Buzz-buzz. She’s sitting upright, her head mechanically going up and down to display a faux concentration, but her mind is on the vibrating device in her pocket. Shouldn’t the caller know that she’s in class?

The lecture goes on for half an hour after that. Her phone rings three more times. She bites her lip, worry increasing with each buzz of her phone. Who could be calling her incessantly?

The moment the lecturer walks out, Ada grabs her phone. The missed calls are from her younger brother, Ebuka. He is the only one in their family house, as she is in the university writing her semester exams and their parents are on a business trip.

Ebuka sent her a message: “Please come home fast. Gas is leaking.”

Worry runs through her veins and grips her chest. She tries calling Ebuka back, but he doesn’t pick up. En route back to Warri, she calls everyone – Mama, Papa, Mr Okon (their landlord), Mummy Ayo (their neighbour). No one responds.

Ada returns home to see a crowd of people in front of the heap of ashes where their house formerly stood. No one says a word to her. No words need to be said. The ashes, the smoke in the air, the soot covering bystanders – they all speak the unsaid words. The smell of roasted bodies conveys reality.

She scans the crowd for a young boy whose complexion is as dark as molasses. He wears glasses too big for his face, with front teeth too big for his mouth. She loves that boy, would’ve given up everything for him. He is supposed to run towards her, arms wide open to embrace her as he shouts, “Sister Ada! Sister Ada! Welcome back!”

Yet the only sound she hears is buzz-buzz. The vibration of her phone echoes in her head, a memento of her brother. Buzz-buzz.

The sound that comes out of her lips is raw and guttural, and Ada sinks to the ground and cries.