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Intuition. Is it nothing but a thought, a deeper understanding? Or, is it a gut feeling, that won't release you from the shackles of its hold? Fear is another phenomenon that hunts the dreams of plenty. Fear of not knowing what the future holds, or even a couple minutes down the line. All these things shape people, and at this moment these were all the thoughts running through Syrai's mind. Why was she here, she couldn't tell you. However, what she did know was everything was different here. New York, and the loudness, she wanted silence. It was silent here. It wasn't stuffy, she could breathe. The only place she had held her breath for so long, was her ventilator of life. She was so grateful.
"So this is it," Tirion said in a surprised manner. He wasn't expecting the city in Michigan to adapt to the times. Being an Atlanta boy homegrown, he held a high perspective of what city life is supposed to be. This was no ATL or New York, but he saw a couple of fine niggas passing. Syrai smiled at him and shook her head. She saw his lingering eyes on the light skin dreadhead. Syrai was happy, a soul feeling happy. Being gone had allowed her to find herself, to understand what Syrai wanted. It was peace. She wanted peace.
Pointing her finger, she grabbed her bag. "The Uber is here."
The entirety of the ride Tirion talked her head off, while she stared out the window. It was a time were she craved the street life, the being seen. Being heard. After being silenced, she wanted thunderous noise. But all that seem to have brought her more disparities.
"You okay? Girl you staring out the window like somebody there. Syrai yo ass bet not start tripping," he said, holding his fingers in a cross. She laughed him off and looked forward as her mouth tighten seeing her childhood home. Nobody knew she was here, she hoped they would take it well. As much as she love Granni Vea, she couldn't help but think she was in a 24-hour prison. Nobody, trusted her, hell she barely trusted herself. But it had been months and she hadn't touched it, she was fighting a body-shaking craving.
"You need help with yo bags baby girl," The Uber driver called when he pulled up in front of the gates. Syrai smiled but declined. "Nigga, you don't see me here? You gon ask my bitch that," Tirion said in his deepest voice. The driver began apologizing profusely. Syrai hit Tirion in the chest and exited the car.
"Did you see his ass," Tirion croaked in laughter.
"You need to stop doing that shit," she smirked. He had saved her plenty of times from unwanted advancements. Don't get twisted Tirion was a fine cinnamon skin man. Keep his hygiene up, lining fresh, and fits fly. However, he just didn't gravitate to the female attention. But if he did, panties would most definitely be dropping at his feet.
Wrapping his arm around her shoulder, he leaned in and whispered. "You gon let me beat that pussy lose," as soon as the words slipped they fell out in laughter. Their loud voices carried over into the quiet home. Syrai looked over her old residence, it hadn't felt like home in a long time. After setting Tirion up in her guest room, she lingered. It was like clockwork for her to end up in her father's old office. Years later it looked exactly how he left it. The room still smelled of him, still had his presence. Maxwell Watson, her sun and moon.
