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It was a cold night in New York, typical for the place known as the big apple. The snow tapped beautifully against the window. The warmth of the gas lit fireplace heated and dimly illuminated the tiny New York apartment condo. Aaliyah walks down the hall and into the kitchen. She opens the refrigerator and grabs the bottle of white wine, pouring herself the last glass. She takes a sip, letting the alcohol dance over her tastebuds for a moment, before making her way over to the couch. She sets her glass on the end table and curls up on the plush leather sofa.
She sighed gratefully before pulling the knit blanket over her legs and opening up her newly purchased Harry Potter book. It was another lonely night for the woman and frankly, she didn’t mind it in the least bit. This was one of the rare moments where it was just her, and only her. Any other time her mother would be over to sit for a few hours or she'd call over some close friends for their favorite blockbuster night. All moments she cherished dearly, but having just came off filming for the past five months... safe to say she needed this quiet.
Nothing compares to sitting at home in her comfiest sweatpants, cropped sweater, and cozy socks, paired with a nice glass of white wine and a good book.
Then, out of nowhere, there was a knock at the door, startling the singer. She peered her eyes over to the clock that leaned against the mantle. It was quarter till nine at night. “Who would come here at this ungodly hour?” she thought to herself, debating on whether or not she should answer it. The notion was then interrupted by another persistent knock against the door. She then rose from her place on the couch and walked toward the front door. She took a look through the peep hole, inspecting the unexpected situation. She rolled her eyes and opened the door.
She is greeted by a medium height, nicely shaped woman with a beanie on your styled hair and piercing slanted eyes, carrying a rather large brown paper bag in your fully decorated arm. It is a person she knows all too well. A person who she rarely saw now that her career has been on a fast paced track.
“Can I help you?” She asks you, arms crossed as she leans on the threshold, lips pursed eyebrow raised.
You look at her with a sneer expression on your face. “Is that anyway to treat your oldest friend who comes bearing gifts?” You walk in past her, setting the grocery bag on the kitchen counter, starting to dig through them..
It’s true. You are one of her oldest and dearest friends. You both met when you were only eight years old in Detroit, Michigan. You lived along the same road in the small middle class neighborhood. You often played together outside across the street between your two houses with the other tiny kids. Memories that they are both so very fond of, running, giggling, and chasing each other playing hopscotch. You grew up close, some might say inseparable even. That is until super stardom hit Aaliyah at the ripe young age of fourteen.
