9 November 2025, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2916: characteristically quiet

In Lasgidi, there lived a man named Suleiman, known by everyone simply as Sullex . He wasn’t the loud type. Never had been, since his time in primary school, he was always voted most reserved or most quiet. While others in the compound argued about fuel prices or the next match Man united would lose, Sullex would just smile faintly and continue sweeping the front of his kiosk. He wasn’t shy, he just preferred silence. People often mistook that quietness for pride. “That Sullex too dey form,” (meaning that sullex is full of himself) the tailor beside his shop would say. But Sullex didn’t care. He preferred to play Rising Star and Splinterlands all day. He had grown up in noise, a family of 15, the kind of house where quarrels were louder than the radio. There was no need for television, cos everyday was like another episode in a soap opera. After his father died, his mother struggled to raise the children. He fixed phones, cleaned his shop, minded his business. He was always polite, always calm. If you greeted him, he’d greet back and thats it. If you shouted, he’d smile and say nothing. A difficult way to live if you are familiar with the rigors and razness of the mega city like Lasgidi and required a lot of discipline, but sometimes, in that quiet, the world felt far away too far. One evening, as the orange sky melted over the rooftops, Zainab, the new neighbour, stopped by his shop. She was the opposite of him, a talkative, cheerful, and jovial person. She came to fix her cracked screen but ended up talking for an hour straight. “You don’t talk much, do you?” she asked, teasing. Sullex shrugged. “Not when I’ve got nothing useful to say.” Zainab smiled. “Hmm. That’s why people like you are dangerous. You keep everything inside.” He laughed for the first time in weeks. It was quiet, but real.

They became friends. She’d bring him waina(a northern delicacy) in the mornings and gist him about everything from her annoying boss to her dream of leaving the country one day (Japa she would term it). And sometimes, she’d get him to talk. About his mother. His fears. His dreams of owning a proper phone repair centre one day. But like most quiet people, Sullex wasn’t used to being seen. Zainab noticed. “You know,” she said one night, “you hide behind silence like it’s armour. But even armour gets heavy when you wear it too long.” Her words stayed with him. Weeks later, when Zainab moved to the U.K for work, Sullex felt something break quietly inside him. He went to her empty flat, sat on the doorstep, and for the first time, wished someone was there to listen. That night, he took a long walk under the stars and said softly to himself, “Maybe being quiet doesn’t mean I should stay unseen.” The next morning, he opened his shop earlier than usual. He greeted people first. Laughed with the tailor. Shared his suya with the vulcanizer. He was still quiet characteristically so but no longer invisible.

P.S= i'm not so sure if I got the prompt right