Diaphanous curtains billowed in the summer winds of 1962. I walked over to the ornately carved chair beneath the window and glanced outside with one leg propped against the plush cushions while the other on my toes. The anklets on my feet jingled impatiently as if tethered down. The henna from my hair laced the air with the earthy sweet smell and my tresses glowed reddish- black against the slanting rays of the sun.
My eyebrows creased into a frown shielding and squinting from the summer sun. My veins seemed on fire and blood coursed though it expectant of more warmth. My gaze traveled towards the staircase, knowing that was where my destiny would draw me. Would it be today or tomorrow? My impatient painted fingernails tapped on the window ledge as I hummed a melancholic song from yesteryear.
The story needed to be told.
The pages were stuck between the beginning and the end…