𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃

4: 𝗱𝗮𝘆𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗻.

𝗣𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗵

Sunday went by without much happening. I played chef this morning. Only because Jessy and Khadi returned with me last night.

After a few long showers and some food — we crashed. Jessy and I shared my bed while Khadi insisted on sleeping alone. Spoiled ass. So, she went downstairs to the common floor where Mimi's room was. Which is the only other room here. This morning we woke up to them having minor headaches and my stomach growling. So, a hot meal it was while Jes FaceTimed her cousin Kai.

Up until now, Jessy and I spent most of the day lounging. After our breakfast, Khadi slipped off with her "man". Nothing unusual at all. However, it gave us some time to dive into our studies. Between washing dirty clothes, cleaning up the kitchen, and starting on my newest column — I had my chore list full.

Presently, I was plotted on the couch. My MacBook resting on my lap as my notebook and pen sat to the left of me. Indeed the news column regarding Atlanta's very own Dreamville was coming along smoothly. Summer Walker playing on the television from my iTunes as my fingers slid across the keyboard with ease. I was over seventy percent when I came up short-handed for the first time.

One more day.

Tomorrow I was due to be at Dreamville tattoo shop to fulfill my promise with KD. However, I had come up with much information already.

I had met and answered most of my five Ws. The what, when, and where is typically the easiest. Who and why? That's what was halting my progress.

Photos from the car show had been selected and edited by myself. The only thing missing was the possibility of an interview. The column was incomplete without one. That would give factual dates, quotations, and newsworthy details.

"I want some soul food." Came from behind me and I looked up from my notepad to Jessy.

"From where?"

"Outta yo' kitchen, girl," She looked at me like I had five heads before taking her seat opposite of me on the couch. "You don't wanna cook some red beans and rice? I want jambalaya rice."

She rose an eyebrow at me and I matched the energy before glancing at the time on my phone. Indeed I had been stuck here for hours. Typing and working while only standing for a few breaks to put on a new load of clothes or remove some from the dryer.

"I'm not cooking no red beans at five o'clock. We'll be eating after eight o'clock for sure. Cause I know I don't have any kidney beans in there," She smacked her teeth with a childish pout and I laughed. "Your mama ain't cooking today? Or we can go to Mr. Rod's. I'm not cooking."

"I rather Mr. Rod's." Jess told me, unlocking her iPhone.

Mr. Rod's was the name of a Black-owned restaurant in East Point. He was a private chef we met on campus around two years ago. He catered for the Mass Media program at CAU once. Cooking soul food for our Black History program. The man is a badass when it comes to soul food and recently opened his own restaurant.

"Alright, let me put on some clothes and we can go."

"Okay, bookie."

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Like a typical Sunday, Mr. Rod's was busy. From the young to the old, there was someone to take up every inch of the diner. From groups seated at the dining booths to a few standing up waiting for their to-go orders. While Jes and I found a spot at the bar.