The Fight, The Defeat
As Adrian and Martin were quarreling, Richard issued from the dormitory. The flap-flap sound of his brown sandals was only heard by the juniors as he dismounted from the steps. He was in his college’s hostel wears: blue trousers and white long-sleeves T-shirt, clean but not ironed. He was piling some text books under his arms—a real bookworm.
‘’Hey guys,’’ Richard’s hailed, gesturing widely like a rapper on a stage.
His hailing was not loud to beat the murmuring of the students and the quarrel between Adrian and Martin. He shifted his spectacles to his nose and speedily rolled his small, bloodshot and slightly impaired eyes around the juniors. He saw Adamu and dropped his books with him. He removed the medicated spectacles and put it into his breast pocket.
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