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"Is it working?"
Michael paused, looking straight ahead at the camera that was pointed at him. The lights behind it shinning so bright, he couldn't see the people shuffling in the background, just their silhouette's.
"Just... start talking?"
"Yeah," the woman's voice said behind the camera. "Tell us who Rose is. Who Rose is to you."
Michael thought about it, leaning forward as his arms rested on his legs. He looked up at the camera and licked his lips.
"She's always been my Rose... ever since I met her."
"And how did you meet her?" The voice sounded far away, almost faint as he sat in the white chair of the rustic-looking warehouse.
"I met Rose when I was fighting for my life," he answered solemnly, replaying the violent night he almost died.
"What was she doing?"
Michael had leaned back in the chair, his arms lying restlessly against his body, his fingertips lightly massaging his knees as he stared right into the camera.
"She was saving me."
~ ~ ~
A one-shot based on trauma-less black love.
Inspired by Sylvie's Love and The Photograph.
Authors Note: I've always wanted to write a black love story that involved Michael because that's what I feel he deserved. Consequential, unconditional, and unwavering love. Not my usual brandy-esque writing that involves the main girl going through immense trauma at a young age or Michael being emotionally stinted or hood.
So, I hope you all enjoy this one shot of Michael and Rose's meeting.
