Kimberly Smith resides in a rural slum located in Alabama, Birmingham with her mother.
In 1963 news was spreading fleetly of the civil right riots happening downtown to put an end to "Whites-only" lunch counters and segregation.
To come in terms wit...
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Mikey Wilson was content, arm slung around my shoulder's as he took a quick smoke.
We got cast looks of disgust from local families but he acted as if he didn't notice.
Today we happened to be in front of the most favored diner in town.
Betty's Diner.
"Who's this chick?" Mikey's friend Robert if I'm right sauntered over, his dark hair distraught, and white t-shirt stainless.
His sidekick (The brunette one) nowhere in sight.
Roberts eyes being flirtatious, Mikey waved him off with a flick of his hand as he tried to lean on his beaming car, "Woah not the car man, I just got her polished" He complained.
Robert shrugged, "Your lady's on it"
His lady.
My stomach filled with butterflies, "She's clean your not, Simple" Mikey said between puffs, then leaned over towards me.
He precipitously guided my lips to his, blowing his mouthful of smoke into my own as we shared a euphoric kiss.
Once parted, I coughed frantically ruining the moment causing him to smirk, "I like you"
He absentmindedly caressed the soft skin underneath my chin as he said this, to embarrassed to look me in the eye.
Mikey was a big guy but that didn't mean that he lacked feelings, he was human just like the rest of us.
Mikey Wilson had muttered three simple words my feeble heart couldn't handle.
"I like you to, Mikey" I simpered, throwing my hands around him and practically flying into his hulking arms.
At one point in time, Robert walked away.
I remember he said something along the lines of, "I've got to split" But I don't know for sure.
