Crossing Paths

1. Brief Encounters

Washington, D.C., late summer evening...

The city is alive with the buzz of traffic, the hum of voices, and the distant sound of jazz drifting from an open window. The sun has just set, casting a warm, golden glow over the city streets. The air is thick with humidity, making the atmosphere feel intimate and close, like the whole city is holding its breath.

Demarcus stands at the edge of a bustling street, his worn sneakers scuffing the pavement as he waits for the light to change. His eyes, dark and thoughtful, scan the crowd of people moving around him, each one absorbed in their own world. He's dressed simply—a faded black T-shirt and jeans that have seen better days—but he wears his clothes with a quiet confidence. Despite the weariness in his posture, there's a determination in his gaze, a resolve that life's hardships haven't yet extinguished.

Across the street, Asia steps out of a sleek black town car, her heels clicking softly on the sidewalk. Her movements are graceful, almost practiced, as if she's used to being watched. She's dressed in a tailored white dress that contrasts sharply with her smooth, deep brown skin. Her Afro curly hair is perfectly styled, and she carries herself with the poise of someone who's always been accustomed to getting what she wants. But beneath the polished exterior, there's a flicker of something more—something she doesn't often let others see.

As Asia makes her way toward the entrance of an upscale restaurant, she glances up, and for a moment, her eyes meet Demarcus's across the street. It's a brief connection, just a fraction of a second. Demarcus feels a jolt in his chest, a pull towards this woman who seems so far out of his world. He knows who she is—everyone in the neighborhood knows Asia. She's the daughter of a prominent local politician, a woman with everything at her fingertips. And yet, there's something in her eyes that tells him she's more than just the image the world sees.

Asia pauses, feeling an inexplicable pull towards the man across the street. There's something about his presence—solid, grounded—that intrigues her. She shouldn't be interested, not in someone so different from the people she's used to. But there's something about him that she can't quite shake.

The light changes. The city moves on.

"Have you decided on which wine best suits your palate today Miss Palmer?" - a soft voice cut into her thoughts. Asia had been seated in her usual spot at La' Rue's for more than 30 minutes. She did not realize she hadn't put in a request for a drink.

"Sorry about that Angelica, ─ she paused ─ I'll have the Pinot Noir." It wasn't her usual order but today Asia was feeling a little different.

The opening for a bid to become a partner at her firm was announced earlier today. While she was excited, Asia had to also calculate her next move. She'd been working at Brown & Anderson long before she became an attorney. An eager paralegal, hungry to show the world that she can be more than a (then) powerful attorneys' daughter. Asia's father was one of the most prominent attorney's in DC, up until 4 years ago when he decided to run for public office, and won. To have a father like him is a nerve-wracking experience. There was always so much pressure placed on Asia, as if she was an only child, but she was the most hardworking out of her siblings. Buying in as partner at the firm would give Asia the satisfaction of knowing that she worked hard to be in the position she's in and deserved to be accepted by the partners as well. She wanted this, she knew she damn well earned it too ─ but there was also this gnawing feeling in the back of her mind. There's more to life than moving up in position and proving to everyone that you're not a Nepo Baby.

She snapped out of her thoughts, ordered her food and ate in silence for the rest of the night. Asia's an over thinker and tonight she just wanted to eat her food in peace and worry about the big stuff later. Once she finished her meal and tipped Angelica, she made her way back outside to her town car. As if out of habit, she looked up across the street. Hoping to see the guy from earlier. She didn't know why she wanted to see him but that pull she felt earlier was something she couldn't shake off, like she was meant to bump into him again. Unfortunately, it was late and she knew that she wouldn't see him in that same spot again. The city is a little less hectic on a weeknight compared to the daytime and as Asia is driving home her thoughts keep running back to the handsome man from earlier and that gnawing feeling as well: There has to be more to life than just my achievements. ─ but is there really?

Demarcus sat at the small, wooden table in his one-bedroom apartment, absently picking at the remnants of his dinner. The savory aroma of griot—a dish his Haitian mother used to make when he was a kid—still hung in the air. He had taken his time cooking it, letting the pork marinate just right before frying it to a perfect golden brown. Cooking was one of the few things that brought him comfort, something he could control in a life that often felt unpredictable. But tonight, even the taste of the griot couldn't fully distract him from his thoughts.

His mind kept drifting back to the woman from earlier, the one he'd locked eyes with across the busy street. It wasn't like him to get caught up thinking about someone like that, especially someone like her. Demarcus knew who she was, of course—Asia Palmer wasn't exactly a stranger to people in this part of the city. Everyone knew her name, her family, the kind of circles she ran in. She was polished, successful, rich. Everything he wasn't.

But there had been something in her gaze that made him pause. She had looked at him like she really saw him, not just another face in the crowd. It was a strange feeling, one that left him restless and unable to focus on anything else.

He pushed the plate away and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. The fan above him wobbled slightly as it spun, creating a soft whir that filled the silence of the room. Demarcus had been working odd jobs for the last couple of years, trying to make ends meet and keep himself afloat. Life had never been easy, but he'd learned to deal with it. He wasn't one to complain, even when things got rough. But lately, there had been this creeping sense of dissatisfaction, like something was missing.

His phone buzzed on the table, snapping him out of his thoughts. It was a text from his friend, Jake, asking if he wanted to meet up for a drink at their usual spot. Demarcus stared at the message for a moment before setting the phone down without replying. He wasn't in the mood for company tonight.

Instead, he found himself wondering what Asia was doing right now. Probably something important, he thought, something that mattered in the grand scheme of things. It was hard not to feel the gulf between their lives, the chasm that separated the world of the haves from the have-nots.

But even as he tried to push the thoughts away, that same pull he'd felt earlier, standing on the corner and watching her disappear into the restaurant, tugged at him again. It was like there was something unresolved between them, even though they hadn't exchanged a single word. Something that wouldn't let him just forget about her.

He stood up and moved to the small window, pulling aside the thin curtain to peer out at the quiet street below. The night was still, the only sounds were distant traffic and the occasional bark of a dog. The city felt different at this hour, like it was holding secrets just waiting to be uncovered.

Demarcus knew it was crazy, that there was no reason for him to think he'd ever cross paths with Asia Palmer again. They lived in different worlds, and those worlds didn't mix. But even as he tried to convince himself of that, a part of him wondered what would happen if they did meet again. What would he even say to her?

He let the curtain fall back into place and turned away from the window, a deep sigh escaping his lips. There had to be more to life than just getting by, more than just surviving day to day. But what that 'more' was, he wasn't sure. Not yet, anyway.

As he sat back down at the table, the plate of griot now cold, Demarcus couldn't shake the feeling that tonight was just the beginning of something.