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—๛HARLEM KNIGHT ⋅ ﾟ･ DATE: JUNE FIRST OF NINETEEN EIGHTY-NINE
It was finally quiet in the Knight household. Harlem's brush swam through her relaxed strands as she glancess at the alarm clock that sat on her nightstand. Eleven-thirty; how slow the time was going for Harlem. Her mahogany hue thick wooled robe sat against her body, correcting her dark lipstick that spread against her lips. She smirks at her facial features in her mirror; internally grateful she was giving good facial features, unlike her brothers.
Her eyes rolled in the thought of the barbaric, selfish, entitled humans she was genetically related too. How could her parents birth those laughingstocks and then a grand drop of a specimen like her? She didn't know either. Her eyes gaze to the corner eye, going over the time once more.
11:40? Ain't this bout a–
A soft melodic knock was heeded against her door, attaining her jump from her thoughts and onto her feet to retrieve the door. She twists the cool brass doorknob unhurriedly, peering to the massive leather jacket and sandalwood aroma which included of her older brother Mecca. She sighs in relief and opens the door entirely, allowing his tall figure to stroll in as she glimpses from side to side to steer clear of her Mother or Father.
Ever since her Mother had received a week vacation from work to be home while Harlem's father Raymond was home from being stationed in Korea. She had been allotting things for her kids to do, commodities she could've been doing herself but decided not to.
She expected Mecca and Harlem to take care of kids that weren't theirs, cook for them and clean after them as if they were slaves, and it was quite tiring. The two siblings had formed themselves a bond the recent four years and created activities to do together that cleared the issues they retained at home.
Mecca squints and extends his thumb, swiping it across Harlem's bottom lip."You wear lipstick now?" Harlem squints back and pops his hand.
"See, Mecca we was doing good. Then you had to mess it up by doing just that." She shakes her head in a disappointed manner earning a smack of the teeth. Mecca rolls his eyes and puts one hand on his hip. "Well excuse me." He snaps and pulls his car keys out, as Harlem unties her robe.
Harlem's small suited leather jacket sat against her non-existent chest gracefully, her stainless white shirt sat under it, tucked into her blue jeans. She looked like a usual girl that was gonna be watching dudes race on motorcycles. Only difference was that Harlem just pulled it off better than the rest.
"What are you, the white girl from Grease? C'mon." He unlatches the window, sliding it up carefully as He proceeded to ease himself out into the cozy California climate as Harlem eases back to the light switch, darkening the room as she slithers in her combat boots to the window.
