February by Nick Nwaogu - HTML preview

INT. ROOM 7, WING C, ST. NICHOLAS HOSPITAL - CONTINUOUS

Chioma’s face is wearing a WIDE smile that reveals her sparkling-white gap-teeth, which tells that she’d secretly wished for a way to relive those moments with Emeka, a million times over.

CHIOMA

That was the last time I saw Emeka.

FEMI (looking confused)

Hold on, you never told me about the part when you responded to Emeka’s text message.

CHIOMA

What makes you think I responded to

Emeka’s message?

CHIOMA (CONT’D)

(sad)

I never got the chance to.

Femi pulls out from his left trouser pocket, a mobile-phone, NEATLY concealed in a small, transparent waterproof bag, probably being held as evidence.

FEMI (shakes the bag)

Is this yours?

CHIOMA (happy)

Yes.

FEMI

Well your phone tells me something different.

Chioma looks confused.

CHIOMA

I don’t follow.

FEMI

You actually responded to Emeka’s text message. A message was sent from your phone to Emeka at exactly ten thirty-two PM yesterday.

FEMI (CONT’D)

Do you remember sending any message to Emeka at that time?

Chioma’s confusion doesn’t wear off.

CHIOMA

No. I don’t remember sending a message to Emeka.