written by David Anglin

Daily Creative Writing Practice - Black Men Don't Cheat [Short Story]

Daily Creative Writing Practice - Black Men Don't Cheat [Short Story]

My daily practice of bringing depth to simple sentences...

Black Men Don't Cheat

For her, today had been one of those days. A day where everything that could go wrong, went wrong. Bringing along a host of bad scenarios whose only purpose in co-existing was in turning a bad day into an epically bad day. Unfortunately, she was the victimof this dreadful alliance.
Her journeys into work had always been peaceful. 10 minutes on the train, then a leisurely walk through the hustle and bustle of Stratford's old center before arriving in good spirits at her workplace of Adult Probation.

Today though was different. Due to extreme delays on the central line. She arrived at a packed platform. All she could see were anxious faces pressed together.
Now she was a person who always liked to sit in the middle carriages of the train, as her logic was that its the safest area to be. As trains crashing usually happen at either the front or the back of the train. So as usual, she went towards the middle of the platform. The brilliant heat from a rising sun brought the threat of perspiration that would ruin her immaculate foundation. She lost the battleagainst perspiration as she attempted to squeeze through stubborn commuters.
Due to her short stature, she barely received acknowledgment of needing to get by. Finding herself stuck between wide hips and the long legs of men and womenwho in their suits ignorantly chose not to give way. Giving no eye contact as they refused to even give recognition to her polite calls of "excuse me." Realising her calls of "excuse me" would be forever ignored she discontinued her journey of reaching the middle of the platform. Waiting in silence. Her feelings of belittlement kept within.
When she finally managed to squeeze her self on to a train, she couldn't help but feel like a sardine, tinned with other hot bodies. As the door of the train closed and opened up her senses to the foul of BO at its worse and the quiet storm of gas made from overworking intestines as they quietly escaped the confines of their owner's bowels. The train barely moved a meter. A leg gyrated against her behind.She didn't even have the space to turn and see who could be so bold. As if to mock her, the same leg gyrated against her again. The train moved another 5 meters.
30 minutes later and she'd finally made it off the train. Though the gyrating leg, led to her concluding that men are dogs by nature. Her feelings of violations had her insides heated. A brewing volcano waiting for the addition of the last catalyst that would cause an eruption that would have the world covered by a blanket of gritty dark plumes.
She arrived at the office 50 minutes late. Greeted to the words of "you're late! Get in my office now!"
The brewing volcano chilled to a cold peak. Her insides melted as if already in defeat. She knew she should stand up for herself. Not to allow fat cheeks to talk to her so rudely. Breathing on to her with his permanent suffering of morning breath.
She shot him looks to stop his heart. Staring him down with barely veiled fury.
She said with authority "you have no right to talk to me like that. You are no God of me!"

It played out well in her mind. Her actual response was to timidly follow her manager into his office. Her thoughts went briefly to her best friend who always scolded her passiveness, telling her she needed to be more assertive and to not always be so nice!
He gave her a look that said she was taking way too long. She put her head down quickening her pace as she closed the door on peeking colleagues. Entering the world of her red faced manager. His cheeks wobbling as if in synchronicity to the shakes of her legs.
The deterioration of her day only worsened as her manager went from shouting about her time keeping to screaming about the quality of her work. Attacking her 10 years plus of professionalism. Her ten years plus of achievements. Grinding down her sense of worth with words of "is this really the right career for you? Maybe you're better suited for stacking shelves." Her heart sunkas she fought back tears of humiliation. Knots forming tightly in her stomach. As she battled to remain composed. A queen wilted to slave. Her eyes forever lowered.
An hour later she left the managers office. Half an Hour later she made her journey back home. Using up her Flexi as emergency leave.
Right now all she wanted was to be held. To be comforted like how her father would hold herwhen ill. To be kissed lovingly. She hoped Michael was at home. As all she wanted right now was soul touching affection. Not sensual. Not sexual. Just to be held by someone who thought the world of her.
She placed the keys in the lock. Turning around slowly. Opening her home to funk. Funk that hit her senses in verbal explosions of what the F$%k. She stepped further in, her heels echoing on lamented flooring. Though partially drowned by a slapping sound. When skin hits skin. The roll of tussling lovers as they frantically search each other for new depths.

She walked in on Michael, his brown face blissful and sweaty from indulging in life's greatest of pleasures. Though now turned to horror, as the forbidden apple he'd eaten showed quickly the consequence to his action.
"I wasn't expecting you back so early" he managed to stammer out.
"I can tell." The chill to her answer would have given even Freddie Kruger lessons on fear.
The girl with flowing brown hair next to him pulled a cover to her chin in hopes of being camouflaged from current reality. She peeked from the cover. Brown eye's surveyed her darkly. "Look, I think I should get out of here, and leave you too to work out your differences."
" I think you best sit down." Her best friend would have loved her assertiveness right now.

Look Babes, It's not what you think. I was just testing my commitment to you."
She looked down upon. Like how a headmistress observes an unruly lying child, while thinking up a punishment for him that he'd long remember.

"Look what I'm saying, being with her, I felt absolutely nothing for her. My thoughts were only of you." He flashed her the warmest smile he could muster, given the present situation. His two years of GCSE drama paid off as he flashed a world changing smile. In the background Radio 1Xtra played in support, 'Black men don't cheat, that's why me and my plug still speak.' He flashed an even wider grin, making sure to showcase the pearls of his teeth in all their glory.
She was unimpressed. Her face stone. Giving away nothing. She took her long heels from her feet. Placing each heel within the folds of her small hands. In silence just like how the rude boys of old use to move. Before all badness was placed on to the ever remember worldwide internet. She lashed out with both heels and proceeded to dish out a set of licksupon the adulterous vermin of her home. Setting an example, setting a tone for any other vermin who may have had just the slightest of inclinations of stepping within the sanctuary of her home. As the cries of pain rose her stresses of the day lowered. Yin and Yang. The equilibrium of life was reset.

Photo by Wesley Quinn on Unsplash

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