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MaMaeve,
Just a few lines to say hello. Got to the States all right. D.C. just like I left it. Things are going great here, real good. But, I'm thinking of coming back to Samson, the small city life might do me good.
As Flapjack struck the black gun on the coffee table, Wallace quitted writing and put the paper in his pocket. Smoking a cigarette, he leaned back in his couch.
Flapjack didn’t seem to change much since grade-school. As vivacious as he used to be, he was conceed about Wallace willing to call off the plan. Wallace, aoyed by Flapjack’s enthusiasm, apathetically assured him by of his inclination by fixing their appointment.
After Flapjack was gone, Wallace sat in his green couch, smoking a cigarette and thinking of the path life made him walk in. Thinking that his life would be okay if he wasn’t black or if he had a supporting father or maybe if his knee wasn’t injured or if only MaMaeve had stayed. But it didn’t happen that way. He was sitting in a dark apartment, with the rent three months late and due tomorrow. He still couldn’t believe that he was persuaded by Flapjack’s ridiculous suggestion of rubbing Leroy’s store.
Before entering the store, while sitting on a crate behind the dumpsters, Wallace thought you can’t cry over the milk now and the rent due is in nine hours. But still he was unsure. He missed home and wanted to see MaMaeve.
After a small talk with one another, the two men entered the small convenience store. Flapjack standing at the magazine rack and Wallace by the baby food, they were waiting for a fat black lady and a cop to leave. After a few minutes, the cop went out but the fat lady was fussing with Leroy, an old wealthy man with a wife and a girlfriend, about the fake prices.
It was too late to wait for the lady to leave the store. While Flapjack was missing, Wallace stepped in with the gun in his hands, urging Leroy to put his hands on the counter and give him the money. Leroy’s indifference made Wallace go berserk and so he pressed the gun to his temple. Screaming, the fat lady ran away with three cans of tomato paste. Leroy didn’t even resist Wallace’ command and calmly started to put the money in a paper bag.
“I knew the moment you walked in here that you won’t no good. You got that look about you, boy. You ain’t never going to do no better or be better for no one else. You needed a strap to you as a child. Now, if I was your daddy.”
And then Wallace eventually lost his tranquility and wasn’t able to ignore what the black arrogant man just said. And shut his gun. Wallace watched Leroy falling down. He said nothing as he knew death when he saw it.
Wallace seized the bag and left the store. Everything was changed. He was walking to his apartment, while having a war in his mind. Now that he had money, rent would be paid and he would eat. But, he could never go back.
When at apartment, he sat in his chair, smoking. Flapjack called, seeking for his share. Wallace impatiently talked for a short while and hung up on him. He leaned back in his green chair, making up his mind.
“Well, I’ve changed my mind. The city just picked up. Not that I wasn’t good. But now, it’s just different. I’m always goa be a city boy, I guess. Nothing changes.
Love,
Wallace.”
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