Now, every time I pass that corner shop, every time l smell that smoke, I feel it. That shadow. That high. That street. And I know... I am never really free.!'
I thought | was untouchable. Small crack hits after work, chilling with my guys in Lagos, money flowing, girls laughing, streets buzzing, felt alive. I thought I had control.
I woke up the next morning, alone, on the same Lagos street I used to walk freely. My phone was in my pocket.
My wallet gone. And in my hand... a small note: 'Next time... you won't wake up.'