Hello Conscience

By N. C. E. 

For the third time I struck the match stick against the match box and it brought forth the normal orange flame and as two other times, it went off.

It must be a sign I thought. My heart was beating real fast and my conscience too wouldn't let me.

I left my room and went to the kitchen which was shared by five rooms which had two occupants in it.

The kitchen was an eyesore.

The sink was worst. It had decayed food particles in it.

The stench was nothing to write home about.

The flies? They were grateful to whoever was responsible for the condition of the kitchen.

One of the rules in Holy Family Hostel was “No hot plates or cooking inside the rooms.” The punishment was leaving the hostel with no refunding of rent.

On my way back to my room, I almost collided with a seminarian who was in a hurry.

"Semi sorry, good afternoon."

It was the second sign that I was going to get caught if I should cook in my room!
Picking up my detergent, mop, bucket and rag, I left for the kitchen and in fifteen minutes, the kitchen was back to its normal state.

I smiled and told myself well done.

Fast forward to the evening, I returned from school really late.

I had a delicious rice in mind as I struggled with a tired me down the hall to the kitchen with my stove in my hands.

Here I am, standing at the door of the kitchen, confused and uncertain of what to do next.

The kitchen was worse than it was in the morning.

Hello conscience? Can you not show yourself?

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