keep it thoro

the 10th grade was a blur. most of my time was spent in the livingston mall world foot locker stock room, box cutter in hand, hot sam in my belly. it was within these mobb deep-blaring environs that i experienced my first legit black girl crush and heartbreak. her name intentionally escapes me, but her sauciness i will never forget. she had the elegant eyes of a disney princess and lips seductively penciled in a way i had not seen duplicated in the halls of my admittedly white high school. a true dime, indeed.

she, too beautiful for suburban retail, and myself becoming acquainted with phase IV of boyhood awkwardness, our frequent, brief exchanges had an air of the surreal. i'd be intently organizing the men's new balance running section (always a bitch) and i'd glance down the hall to find her sauntering over, eyes locked on mine. to whatever i said, she found to be the most interesting thing she'd heard form anyone ever. back then (and even now, kinda) that was all it took to have my heart. soon i had visions of my nubian foot locker fling and i stealing the show at the upcoming homecoming dance. i had fallen so hard that i was nearly willing to work an extra shift for free just so i could be around her. if i hadn't called my mom to ask her if i could work for free, i would have. completely serious.

it didn't take me long thereafter to realize that this was what my manager wanted all along. although never confirmed, i'm convinced my ebony goddess had, at my manager's behest, flirted with me and impressively feigned attraction to keep me a happy, devoted foot lockerer.
she was damn fine so i ain't mad at him.

i also vaguely remember reading shakespeare's macbeth in the 10th grade, which is the inspiration for akira kurosawa's throne of blood.