The Life of Kiana Young

“Morning Miss Young, how are you today?” I watched the doctor take his usual seat in front of me. His pad of notes under his left arm and his glasses in his right hand. His white coat down to his shins, with his white shirt and black skinny tie underneath neatly pressed and ironed completing … Continue reading The Life of Kiana Young

Harlem Death

My knuckles turned white as I gripped onto the steering wheel, remembering how they marched and chanted for freedom and “equal rights”, holding banners like they deserved to be placed on the same peddle stool as us white folk were on. I was beyond tempted to take down each and every one of them that … Continue reading Harlem Death