Kianna's Story Market

            Photo by Krišjānis Kazaks on Unsplash              Sweat contoured around Gabriella’s high cheekbones as the applause filled her with the rush she always loved when dancing on stage. She bowed, braids falling over her shoulders, in her deep, red dress she paid a fortune for, but it felt all so worth it with the lights shining on her. This moment was almost enough to drown away the crushing anxieties about the debt she needed pay off. The audience wasn’t as large as she was hoping.  She fled to her dressing room. On her way, she noticed a door, tucked away in the shadows. When had that been there? “Great show out there,” one of the production crew patted her shoulder. She gave him a brief smile, and when she turned back to the door, there was an alluring black butch woman in a fine turn coat suit. The woman disappeared behind the door with an expectant eye. Gabriella couldn’t help but to oblige.  When she stepped through the door, her heels poked against a marble floor.

  Lonely Places Photo by Isaac Wolff on Unsplash The sharp pain of a headache wrapped around Imani’s head like a snake; rain pelted her back, her arms, and her skin as she woke to her fingers pressed against cracked asphalt. Her brows furrowed as she pushed off the cool pavement. Her thick box braids weighed on her shoulders. The humidity was suffocating. It wasn’t even supposed to rain today.  A rusted iron gate creaked as the wind paddled it. The broken, cemented pathway where the ghost stood before she rushed at her like a guard dog. Though the little black girl with puff balls and sad, lonely eyes was nowhere to be found, Imani felt chills as if she were watching her from one of the many broken windows.  Imani peered at the gothic, square-shaped building with graffiti and withered walls. This was the first time that she was starting to have doubts about coming back to the place she had known for ten years after her mother gave her to a place where she would receive the

            Photo by Olena Bohovyk on Unsplash        Alicia’s hands crinkled the envelope. Her heart beat faster as she reached for the door knob. Sweat puddled on her palms. Anxiety swelled in her chest like a puff of smoke, clouding her resolve. She retracted and rested on the wall. “Coward,” she whispered.  “Alicia?” Deborah called.  Alicia shoved the envelope into her pockets and entered Deborah’s office, adorned with Christian crosses and pictures of the sports cars she won from some beauty pageant. “Where are those documents I asked for twenty minutes ago? Did you have lunch or something?” Deborah knew that Alicia ran the habit of skipping lunch to meet all her demands.  Alicia stared at the gold U-hooped earrings and the silver necklace lavished with three round diamonds. She gritted her teeth. How could she do something like this? How could her friend, her mentor do what she did? Alicia threw a newspaper on the desk. “Why?” Deborah glanced at the headline and then reclined in