Harmony is a spirited young woman navigating the vibrant yet gritty world of a strip club, where she dances to support her dreams amidst the shadows of her past. Following the mysterious disappearance of the original owner, the club is abruptly take...
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Harmony Briseis Osabutey THE NEXT DAY | 05/27/21
Harmony sat curled into the corner of the couch like the smallest version of herself. Her knees were pulled to her chest beneath the oversized hoodie she had been wearing, and the blanket draped across her lap was only there out of habit. It didn't bring warmth anymore.
The television across from her was playing some sitcom rerun on low volume, but she couldn't remember turning it on. The laughter felt misplaced in the heavy silence of the room, like a joke she couldn't understand.
The house smelled stale. She hadn't opened a window in days, and her last attempt to cook had ended in her standing over the stove with a wooden spoon in her hand and no idea what she was doing. The pot of rice still sat there, cold and untouched. Her stomach had been too knotted to eat. She hadn't been hungry since the morning she scheduled that appointment.
Her phone buzzed on the coffee table again. She didn't flinch this time. The sound had become a ghost in the background, one she no longer reacted to. She didn't even glance at it.
The screen lit up with the familiar names she couldn't bring herself to answer. Kema. Remy. Her Auntie Mel even tried once. Probably told by Remy that something was wrong. They all wanted something from her, even if it was just a response, and she had nothing left to give.
Outside the window, the afternoon sun crept in through the half-closed blinds. It touched the corner of the coffee table and the edge of the couch but didn't reach her. She felt like it was avoiding her on purpose, like the light didn't belong in a room as dark as hers.
Her fingers were curled tightly around the edge of the blanket. She hadn't moved much all day except to go to the bathroom once. Her throat was dry, her lips cracked, but she didn't get up for water. She didn't want to do anything that required her body to remember it existed. She just wanted to float in this stillness where the pain could settle without being acknowledged.
But the pain didn't rest. It shifted constantly beneath her skin. It lived in her chest, in the spaces between her ribs, in the dull ache of her stomach where life had once tried to grow. She didn't cry anymore. That part had burned out of her. Now it was just numbness making everything feel slow.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed again. This time it didn't stop. It vibrated once, then again, then again, like someone was calling. She turned her head slowly toward it, the movement making her neck throb. The screen showed Kema's name. She watched it until the call went to voicemail. Then a text came through.
Kema <3 Yo. For real. If you alive, text somethin'. A heart. A period. Ion care. We pullin' up.
Harmony stared at the message for a long time. Her thumb hovered over the screen, but she couldn't bring herself to respond.
What was she supposed to say? That she couldn't sleep? That she had dreams so vivid they left her crying into the couch pillows? That her arms ached for something she had chosen to lose?
