Ebony & Ivory [H.S]

One

"Hello I love you, won't you tell me your name?"

Ivory Oakes. Too young, too naïve, and too pretty is how my mother would describe me if she were asked – or even if she wasn't. A stern, loving woman, who believes in hard work and ethics, while I was flouncing about, more interested in immersing and educating myself in music from eras before I was born. The Beatles, Bob Dylan, The Kinks, Nirvana – the lists are endless in my mind, and the best days were always the ones consumed with countless hours on my bed with my father's old records playing. Where I would allow the music to take me back to an age where I was a better fit.

I am a total daddy's girl, as cliché as it sounds, and prior to moving out, I was always happy to flutter about on the farm, assisting where I could – and consequently being only a hindrance more than anything. Our farm is freeing and yet confining all at once, and I had an undeniable urge to leave to the one place where everything seems to be happening. London. And how would I describe myself? Alone. Completely and utterly alone in a city that is so unfamiliar to me.

I carefully type out my tweet for my whole fifty-six followers to see,

"Second day here. Haven't met the Queen just yet, but it's still early days."

I wonder how many retweets it's not going to get?

So that leaves me here. Lonely in a bar that is too warm, too crowded and playing music that I feel ashamed to admit is classified as music. If this is a song, than my alarm tone probably has a shot at making the top forty.