Pyramids [Frank Ocean]

Sierra Leone.

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Hāna's POV.

After spending a certain amount of hours with a group of strangers that I had gotten to know within the time away from work—I realized how valid I still am in society. I can set goals and achieve them; moreover, I can learn to love myself unconditionally.
I look at myself in the vanity mirror, the lighting adding a bit of ambience to my composure as I applied red lipstick; emphasizing my voluptuous lips.

I toss my hair into a ponytail as I put on a black tube top and matching black pencil skirt. My boss had me working extra shifts tonight; after my unannounced "leave," which I thoroughly explained to him for the umpteenth time, that it was unexpected, and that I had to take care of my "health." Of course my boss isn't like Tyler and Frank, he can't even begin to grasp the concept so I let it go.

By the time I was posted up by the corner of 79th, my "coworker," or lack thereof, a friend, was on that street already—a cigarette, bag of chips, condoms, and wallet in hand as her ass made contact on the cold pavement, using it as her seat. Needless to say she looked dead, but the same could be said for me after an hour of commission.

I walk over her, taking a seat before crossing my legs while I remove Frank's warm, leather jacket, "Hey," I said to Luna, "Done with work?"

"Yeah, didn't make shit today though," her smooth voice replies as she removed the cigarette from her lips, "Business is slow, haven't even hit a rack yet."

"Ah." I digress.

"Yeah."

"What about you? You haven't been at the Brothel in a minute, had the sad hoe club crying to boss about how 'unfair it was that they weren't getting vacations' and shit," Luna added, smiling amusingly while air quoting the group of girls that didn't particularly get along with me at the brothel, but had to tolerate my presence—I mean we all lived under the same roof.

I let out a sigh, closing my eyes for a moment; I inhale the cool air—then exhale. Time is fleeting, yet here I am at a stagnant pace...
The amount of regrets that I hold are unfathomable—sometimes I can't remember them, but I try. My memories are starting to become mere puzzle pieces rather than mysteries, "Things I are okay, I guess." I finally say while opening my eyes.

Luna scoffed, pulling the cigarette away from her lips again, "I'm not an idiot Hāna. If you're having a rough time, why don't you ever tell me?"

"There are just certain things I refuse to come into terms with myself," I reply with a rather blank expression. "Things I wish I could've done better in life."

Life, a constant struggle to get through the day till death. Between life is living...a state of mind where humans come to conclusion that we have a purpose here on earth, to do certain tasks.

After life is...death.

These are the cycles that continue to lead to it.

"Well we all think that," My friend sneer playfully, "I mean we're not perfect, at least I'm not."

"Luna," I asked, my face leaned against the wall, eyes half-lidded, "Would you think I'm crazy for saying I don't remember a lot of the things I did? you know, things that led me to...this."
Luna stared at me, incredulously at that; I knew the whole idea of amnesia would come into play, but feel like it's more psychological than what I'm making it out to be, "Well," she began, not really sure how to give advice to me,
"Does it have anything to do with your leave of absence?"