Word count: 401
I rushed the entire day at work. I couldn't help it. I wanted my shift to end so badly. Katrina needs me for tonight. I have to be there for her. That white guy can't do anythin' like I can. Yeah, he says he rich but that's nothin'. I can love her if she'll let me. I can care for her and be by her side no matter what.
"Ow." I sucked in the air quickly as blood started runnin' on the cutting board. "Shit."
I sucked on the wound and switched hands. It was like I couldn't chop the cucumbers fast enough. Or slow enough. God, time was standin' still it seemed.
"Louis! I need you up front. Then I'll let you go for the night."
I blasted through the door and into the buzz of our small restaurant. The cashier was actin' up again. Lucky them, I was a mechanic, too. It took me ten seconds to slap it around and I was gone.
"Louis!" My boss yelled, but he said I could go so I didn't stop for nothin'.
I sprinted down the street. Music blasted from the university. Stupid kids, gettin' drunk. I rolled my eyes. That's all they care about. It's not like they have responsibilities, or kids, or a job. Everythin' is handed to them, but not for me.
Runnin'.
Runnin'.
Runnin'.
Runnin'.
I turned the corner. Katrina held Althea's hand and started walkin' down the street. I waved. Katrina beamed at me and waved back. Geez, she was a gem. There was nothin' better than a workin' woman. Behind her was a small crowd of maybe ten if she was lucky, but if I ran fast enough around town I could fix that.
"I'll be right back!" I yelled. She nodded and turned around.
"What do we want?" she screamed.
"FREEDOM!" The crowd responded.
"When do we want it?"
"NOW!"
"What do we want?"
"FREEDOM!"
"When do we want it?"
"NOW!"
I smiled with pride. Even Beverly showed up, even though he looked halfway dead. I ran ahead of them, knocking on doors and windows of all the people I knew. Ain't nobody was gonna sleep tonight. I quickly explained the deal and kept runnin'. I couldn't stay too long before someone caught me. I ran by the clock tower.
Damn, it was 6:45. I was 45 minutes late. Katrina must be pissed.
YOU ARE READING
Broken
General Fiction"What year is it?" "1955." "Thank you." I turned around, my fears confirmed. I understood why the world seemed so different now. So hostile towards me for no reason. I was black. I was a girl. I was in rags. And it was 1955. ...
