THE TWO PHONES

Amaka had two phones.

One phone was for everybody. MTN line. Family, work, friends. Always ringing. Always stressful.

The second phone was small Nokia torchlight. Only one number saved there: "Mama."

Her mother died 2 years ago. But Amaka couldn't delete the number. Sometimes when work was too much, she would open the small phone, look at "Mama", and just hold it.

One night, Lagos traffic, rain, her boss just insulted her. She broke down inside danfo. Without thinking, she pressed call on the small phone.

It rang.

Once. Twice.

Someone picked.

"Mama?" Amaka whispered, crying.

A voice answered: "Amaka, why are you crying inside bus? Come home, I cooked rice."

It was her mother's voice. Exactly.

Amaka froze. The bus stopped. She jumped out in the rain and ran home.

Her door was open. On the table, steaming jollof rice. Just like mama used to make. The small Nokia was on the table, still on call - 4 minutes 12 seconds.

No one was there.

She ate the rice crying.

The next morning she checked the Nokia. No call history. Battery dead for 2 months.

She never recharged that phone again. She didn't need to. She knew - some numbers never really disconnect.