“Emma… oh no, Emma–” Jacquelyn began to sob again, uncontrollably. Emma perched on the edge of the kitchen pantry, scanning across the grim faces in the room. Cold drilling eyes, metallic stares, empty smiles, loud tears. It was 2:00am, cold and chilly in the wake of January’s biting winter breeze, sirens blared, questions arose, word got round– an occupant on the fourteenth floor just jumped to her death.
“Easy miss. Can you explain what exactly it is you saw?”
Jacquelyn began again, this time differently, “I had come to the kitchen to get some ice cream, and I noticed it was super chilly…”
The world seemed a brighter grey; a new kind of happiness arrested her soul. For the first time, she was the only thing on everyone’s lips.
“Me and Emma…”
“I saw Emma…”
“–sister, annoyingly adorable”
© The Short Black Girl, 2016.