fool for you.

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this story is fiction.

these days i stay to myself. i’m either writing or bullshitting but today i decided to get some fresh air. i missed my friends and this was the perfect occasion to see some familiar faces. a fresh pack of woods on me, a fresh pack of pack on me just in case i get anxious around those that don’t know me. i actually got dressed for this shit. my hair is getting long i actually had to put work into it. this uber driver reminded me why i should take lyft, but i assume every company’s ceo is a bit of a dick. its chilly out but her car is warm. my pocket gets louder and louder by the block. me and the driver lock eyes in the rear view. i know you smell me but your smirk says you feel me so thanks for understanding. felicia dropped me off at the front door. 5 stars. i was excited to be out until right now. my quiet knocks on the door are drowned out by the music. they gon’ have me banging on the door like the feds. bang. bang. bang. not like how you read it but more rhythmic. 

my dog let me in, swear he like a brother from another, with a big embrace cuz we family. its a 2:1 ratio in favor of women so the energy is right. my homies are in attendance and damn its great to see them. its some beautiful women in attendance and goddamn its great to see them. i go to the kitchen to add my bottle to the rest. that’s when i saw her. her glowing skin caught me and her beautiful smile held me motionless. her hair is wild and untamed.  “hey,” she said. hey. after remembering how to speak i responded. “hi.” she’s purposely alone. but she spoke first. true, but if she wanted to be social she’d be in the other room being social. i pour a glass of brown. my new found sophistication wouldn’t allow me to pour this premium brown into a cheap red cup. i’m extra but i clean up after myself.

the conversation has made a turn. past relationship failings and the boasting of sexual prowess from the men and the women in the room leaves me quiet with my glass in hand. i don’t want to talk about my past relationships or my sexual exploits with strangers. i need to smoke. i enter the kitchen on a mission but she was sitting there alone. a glass of ice and what smelled like tequila sat in front of her. “can i join you?” i wave my backwoods. “sure.” she smiled at me again. “i’m shane, by the way.” i extend my hand for hers. “stacey, i’m stacey.” her hand meets mine. 

i rolled up fifteen minutes ago but stacey’s conversation is too interesting and her questions warrant more thought than i was prepared for. i like listening to her speak. here’s what i learned from her: her grandmother was a dancer for the original alvin ailey american dance theater, cbd is a placebo and legal marijuana will be used as another form of control by the government, she has a snoopy tattoo on her left butt cheek, she prefers tequila but usually drinks red wine. “do you smoke,” i asked. she looked at me with an “of course.” in her eyes. normally, i’d share with the homies but this blunt is just for two.

its nice out. the days are getting longer so the sun’s warmth kicks it with us a little longer. we puff and talk. she’s more mindful than me. when i begin to ramble, i can see her staring at the blunt. i’m better at listening. a yell breaks up our conversation about 80s movies obsession with the 2000s and our fear of the future. “ay! y’all coming?” confused, i yelled back, “where y’all going?” my homie said “red diamond.” i look at stacey. “wanna go?” i hope she says no. “i’m fine.” i echoed her sentiments. i’m not drunk enough for the strip club nor did i wear the right pants. the night is young and the woman of my dreams is next me. “wanna hang out?”

Kelvin Hicks