Morning came quietly, as it always did.
A dull grey sky hung over the city, smothering the rooftops in a soft haze. Bayo Diallo stared at it through the cracked window of his small room, listening to the familiar sounds drifting in from outside — a generator coughing back to life, a hawker calling for customers, the distant rumble of buses fighting their way through morning traffic.
Nothing changed.
Nothing ever changed.
He dragged himself out of bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Another day of the same routine: pray, eat, work, pretend he Morning came quietly, as it always did.
A dull grey sky hung over the city, smothering the rooftops in a soft haze. Bayo Diallo stared at it through the cracked window of his small room, listening to the familiar sounds drifting in from outside — a generator coughing back to life, a hawker calling for customers, the distant rumble of buses fighting their way through morning traffic.
Nothing changed.
Nothing ever changed.
He dragged himself out of bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Another day of the same routine: pray, eat, work, pretend he wasn't tired, pretend he wasn't bored, pretend life was anything more than an invisible cycle dragging him forward.
His mother called from the kitchen.
"Bayo! You're late again!"
"I'm coming!" he shouted back, though his voice lacked urgency.
The food was the same as yesterday — and the day before. Bread, too dry. Tea, too thin. His mother fussed over him while his younger sister danced around the table, full of energy he wished he still had.
"You're thinking too much again," his mother said, narrowing her eyes. "Life isn't that hard."
"It is for some people," he muttered.
She didn't hear him — or pretended not to.
He finished quickly, grabbed his bag, and stepped outside. The street greeted him with a mixture of heat, dust, and the usual chaos. Workers rushed past him. Shop owners rolled up their doors. People argued over change before the day had even begun. Bayo walked through it all like a shadow, unnoticed, blending into the rhythm of the city.
He was a 400-level Environmental Science and Management Technology student, walking to university with the weight of lectures, assignments, and endless exams pressing on his shoulders. Yet beneath it all, a faint restlessness tugged at him — a feeling that life was meant for more than surviving from one routine to the next.
He passed the corner where children played in the dust, their laughter sharp against the rumble of traffic. A street vendor flipped akara in a sizzling pan, the aroma wafting past his nose. The smells, the noises, the heat — all familiar. Yet none of it brought him joy.
Something whispered inside him.
Something he couldn't explain.
A tug.
A pull.
Like the world was calling his name.
He tried to shake it off.
At the bus stop, weaving through the crowd of commuters, he felt it again — a strange pressure on his chest, like invisible fingers tapping through his skin. A pulse.
Thum.
He blinked hard.
Maybe I'm just tired.
He stepped onto the walkway — and froze.
As he rounded the corner, something caught his eye.
A girl stood alone by the rusted signpost, dressed in simple clothes, her hair tied loosely behind her. There was nothing special about her at first glance — except her eyes. Chocolate skin, smooth and almost luminous in the weak morning sun. Sixteen, he guessed. Her gaze was steady, unnervingly calm, as though she had seen the world differently than anyone else. She didn't belong in the rhythm of the street, like she had stepped out of the world itself.
Their eyes met.
Calm.
Focused.
Like she had been waiting for him.
She didn't flinch. She didn't smile. She just stared. And in that instant, the noise of the city seemed to fade.
"Do you feel it too?" she asked, her voice calm, almost like a whisper meant only for him.
Bayo blinked. "Feel… what?"
"The world," she said, tilting her head toward the sky. "It's… wrong today. Don't you see?"
Before he could ask anything, a bus screeched to a halt between them. By the time he squeezed past the crowd, she was gone. No name. No explanation. Only her words lingering in his mind.
Bayo shook his head, confused. "Weird…" He hurried toward school, brushing off the unease, but the girl's gaze clung to him like a shadow.
The streets felt heavier now, the usual chatter of merchants and commuters muted, as if the city itself were holding its breath. The wind blew oddly, carrying a faint scent of ozone, like the air had been waiting for something to happen. Shadows stretched longer than they should, bending along walls and corners. Dogs barked at empty streets. Streetlights flickered despite the morning sun. People noticed, but shrugged. Life went on.
Bayo's chest tightened. That same tug, that pulse beneath his skin, pulsed stronger now, almost demanding his attention. He walked faster, scanning the sky as the clouds rolled in, thick and heavy, swallowing the sunlight. Every instinct in him screamed that something was wrong.
Then he looked up.
The moon, pale and trembling, flickered like a dying flame. And then it vanished entirely.
A low hum rippled through the air, vibrating beneath his feet. The city froze. People paused mid-step, eyes wide, mouths opening in silent questions.
For a heartbeat, Bayo heard it again — the girl's voice, echoing in his mind.
"Do you feel it too?"
A strange, cold light washed over the city, pulsing with a rhythm that felt alive. Time itself seemed to pause. The world, as he knew it, was about to change.
******