She walks over to the cassette recorder left to her by her grandmother, Waridi and puts on her favorite tape.
Nina Simone's soulful voice soon fills the room with "Feeling Good".
She saunters to the full-body length mirror and looks back at herself.
She's five foot seven. Her oval face, perfect, as if moulded by all the gods up high at Mount Olympus.
Her dress is crimson red. It desperately clings to her body. Her coal black pupils contrast greatly to the rest of her eyes.
Today she put on blood red lipstick and she looked stunning as ever in it.
She continues assessing herself in the mirror and looks at the way the slit on her dress runs all the way from her feet to her lower thigh.
She shuts her eyes and smiles seductively as if out to trap Lucifer himself to her bait.
Her grandmother Waridi came to mind as she caressed her dark cocoa skin. She had always called her beautiful.
"Bless her sweet soul in all eternity," she says aloud as she does the sign of the cross.
She's not Catholic.
Reya bends over letting her jet black braids lose. They're just above the lower of her back when she gets up.
She looks at the dress embracing her thighs and smiles again.
It's one of her favourites; the dress.
Smile.
She reaches for the end of the slit and tears it even higher up her leg.
Another twirl and a delighted squeal.
She's elated.
She begins to sway her hips to Nina's sultry tune ever so softly.
Still looking at herself, she parts her lips slightly and stares long and hard at herself.
It's almost as if she's enticing herself.
With the back of her hand she smudges her lipstick and flips her braids in all directions.
One might term her as deranged, but that's just Reya's theme for the night, and the nights that came before this one.
"Oh Reya," she says amusedly to herself and begins laughing.
Softly at first then hysterically.
Nothing to laugh about, but she's still laughing.
Until the drops of tears come trickling down her face, leading to the unctrollable sobs.
Another episode has just begun.
