A debt has been incurred. And they've come to collect.
Vanessa Cruz is a young black woman, simply trying to survive in a world set up to conspire against her prosperity. Grinding Monday to Friday, and working Friday to Sunday left her no room to h...
Moodlist Cold Air - The Hics On My Shoulders - Sabrina Claudio Cold Little Heart - Michael Kiwanuka King of Sorrow - Sade
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With my eyes cast on the ground, I caught brief glimpses of my plain black stilettos, as I took brisk strides forward. My head was tipped forward slightly, not enough to seem shy or scared but otherwise allowing me to avoid eye contact with other pedestrians.
This spring had not managed to expel the cold from the city yet and the tips of my ears, nose and fingers were paying the price. My deeply textured hair had been parted in the middle, gelled down and secured into a tight bun at the nape of neck, a choice I was regretting as it left my head exposed to the elements.
Lifting my gaze, I realised I had almost reached my destination, and quickly cleared my mind of weather related complaints. The purpose of my trip to the nondescript building in the middle of the city reappeared at the forefront of my thoughts and my face formed an almost imperceptible frown, reflecting my change in mood. The pace of my steps slowed, as I mulled over the potential outcomes of today's meeting.
You're doing this for Nesto, remember that.
The thought of my younger brother caused my heart to clench. Although his actions were not the reason for this meeting, I couldn't help but feel saddened that he was the recipient of the "message" that brought me here.
I continued walking, completing the lengthy distance between the bus stop I had alighted from and the building. It was clearly a unit intended for commercial use, the floor to ceiling glass panes forming part of the walls revealing a sleek and modern lobby. The building was by no means tall enough to be a skyscraper, but the top floor was not within my line of vision when I tipped my head back and looked up.
Looks legit. A place of business, not too extravagant to draw attention, yet not too run down to raise brows.
As my chin returned to a position parallel with the ground, I took in the reflection of my stationary body in one of the windows. My ensemble consisted of a black skirt suit set, a white shirt and a black overcoat.
With these clothes being the only formal clothing I had access to, I was left with little choice on my outfit. I had done my best to "tailor" the individual pieces my mother gave to me when I asked for them. I don't possess a great affinity for altering clothes, but had picked up enough skills over the years to make sure the skirt didn't gape around my petite waist. The sleeves of the blazer now fell at what I thought was the right place, meaning I didn't look like I was trying to revive Ariana Grande's infamous Sleeves moment.
The one thing I wasn't able to change was the age of the garments. Although not tattered, the clothes looked worn. The black of the blazer and skirt didn't quite match, and though not noticeable to most, I knew it was something the calibre of man I was due to meet would pick up on.
