01 | Imaan Mccoy

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Stepping out of the Ford Focus, a blue T shirt, that read DePaul University, was tighten at the waist and knotted in the back letting a bit of the shiny brown skin of her black shine underneath the black flare leggings that hugged her thick thighs and ass leaving men and women to wonder if she got her ass done or if she even had panties on.

Her low top converses kisses the crack concrete sidewalk as the phone in her hand laid glued shut to her ear, talking to whoever was obviously annoying her from getting on her life.

"Yes mom," I responded into the phone with my arms crossed watching the moving men move my boxes into my apartment, "yes I'm okay and I'm aware it's a bad area but I couldn't find any apartment that was cheaper."

Her voice rambled in the phone as I walked up the wooden squeaky floors in the apartment hallway walking up to the second floor, grabbing the box that read imaan's bedroom.

"Mom," the word coming off a little strong because she was irritating me, "will you get over it? I will be fine and besides I'm a grown woman I've got this."

Pulling the adhesive off her ear pressed the red button to end the continuous yet unfinished conversation, she had better things to do like unpack her belongings into the apartment that was up to modern date yet was located in a neighborhood that was calm and child friendly in the morning yet dangerous at night.

The tape on the cardboard box wanted to be freed of its current relation with the box, pulling a box cutter from the waistband of her leggings, flicking the blade open, gliding it into the sticky plastic til she was able to pull the arms of the box apart from each other.

Her long black French tips stuck themselves into the box pulling it open as she was met with a picture of her and her mom.

Maybe she could apologize.

_________
Author note:
This is rushed yet I'm going to love this story

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