'Jules' mind went back under the moonlight and night air of Baldwin's Fine Arts Center Garden, where intense anger shifted into an intimate moment of curiosity with a blow of the wind.
Maybe two flames weren't supposed to be that close when raging...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"For every dark night, there's a brighter day."
— Tupac
THE subtle grayish glow of dawn peeked out from the sky's horizon as Raheem made his way to Blake's boxing.
While the fall chill did make him clench his navy fleece hoodie together, he liked morning walks to witness the earth sending wake up calls throughout animals from high in the trees, to those that resided in the dirt.
Maxwell's silkened voice floated throughout his earbuds as he made his way down streets only filled with the yellowish tint of the streetlights.
His palms pressed on the doors of Blake's as he was greeted by the gust of warm air that hugged him from the inside.
"Damn McDaniels, you keep tip-toeing in this early and I might have to give you a key," Blake said as he hung jump ropes onto a wall.
"The only thing stopping you, is you," Raheem said with a quick laugh.
"You don't get a key till you bring me in some wins boy. Any-who, how are things with you son—you coming by the house for Thanksgiving this year ?"
Raheem smiled, Blake was like an uncle to him—although he held no relation by blood, love and respect were the things that kept them bound together.
"Nah, last time I left the crib early, I had to apologize to my mom overtime for skipping out on her Sweet Potato Pie and Peach Cobbler. I do it again, and I won't get to hear the end of it."
Blake swatted his hand in dismissal as the wrinkles in his forehead began to bunch up, "Aw, Shiela will understand. You tell her, Marionne has been waiting to make you some of that Cinnamon Supreme Poundcake you like."
Raheem began to set his stuff down and get ready to let off some steam, "Just tell the misses to keep my seat warm, and my plate warmer."
"She'll light a fire in your ass if you don't show up either. How are your grades Rah? You know your cake goes right in the toilet if they aren't looking too good."
Raheem laughed as he grabbed a jump rope from the wall and held it between his hands, "They're fine Blake, A' okay."
"How's your mental?"
Raheem paused before taking a long huff while starting to swing the ropes under his feet, only giving Blake a nod as an answer.
"Well son, if you ever want to talk about it—you know my office is right over there," Blake nodded his salt and pepper curls over to his office that sat inside the wall near the door, "when you're ready to talk, I'll be ready to listen."
Raheem took a break from jumping to respond to Blake, "It's the nightmares," Raheem responded, "They're still going strong."
Blake nodded, it was clear he was trying to carefully piece together what to say next so that he didn't piss Rah off or cause him to shut down.
