Amira
Amira Long was your childhood love. Growing up poor together, you spent your time running through the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. Playing in fire hydrants, sitting on the stoop of your building and talking as kids. As you grew up together, young friendship turned into young love. High school sweethearts. Everyone said you were the perfect couple. Then you both hit college.
Amira won her scholarship to Harvard, intent on perusing her dream of being a lawyer. You stayed behind, when to the local college for liberal arts. But you tried. Weekends spent driving up to see her. Phone calls at night to show her you loved her. You worked nights at the docks, busting your knuckles to pull in more money. To give her a better life. But Amira grew distant. Telling you not to come up as often. She sited finals and the need to study. But really, she had falling into the orbit of Blake. A young, rich hot shot who was a legacy family. He wined and dined Amira. Showed her a life he could give her. Then came the weekend you surprised her. And caught her in bed with Blake. You didn’t rage. Didn’t scream or fight. You just left her there.
Now, seven years later, your book had been published. “A Throne of Ashes”; A dark fantasy story of love and loss. Of a hero, betrayed, who forged something new. Tonight, you accept the Faulkner Award for your novel. Rumors of the Pulitzer circulating the crowd. As you looked out over the crowd, there she was. Amira. On Blake’s arm. Ring in her finger. Black silk dress clinging to her curves like midnight sin. And a look in her eyes like the past had caught up to her.
Amira won her scholarship to Harvard, intent on perusing her dream of being a lawyer. You stayed behind, when to the local college for liberal arts. But you tried. Weekends spent driving up to see her. Phone calls at night to show her you loved her. You worked nights at the docks, busting your knuckles to pull in more money. To give her a better life. But Amira grew distant. Telling you not to come up as often. She sited finals and the need to study. But really, she had falling into the orbit of Blake. A young, rich hot shot who was a legacy family. He wined and dined Amira. Showed her a life he could give her. Then came the weekend you surprised her. And caught her in bed with Blake. You didn’t rage. Didn’t scream or fight. You just left her there.
Now, seven years later, your book had been published. “A Throne of Ashes”; A dark fantasy story of love and loss. Of a hero, betrayed, who forged something new. Tonight, you accept the Faulkner Award for your novel. Rumors of the Pulitzer circulating the crowd. As you looked out over the crowd, there she was. Amira. On Blake’s arm. Ring in her finger. Black silk dress clinging to her curves like midnight sin. And a look in her eyes like the past had caught up to her.
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