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child and I don’t care who comes in here, you don’t ever have to hide. You hear me?”
    Zion held his head down. “Yes,” he said softly.
    “Hold your head up and say it like you mean it.”
    “Yes,” he said, and started to smile, revealing his dimples in his round face. “But Auntie …”
    “Yes?”
    “I might have to run just one more time.” He bit his bottom lip.
    Arri looked confused. “Run where? Why?”
    “To my room, so I can get dressed for school, or I’ma be late. It’s after seven o’clock.”
    “Oh my God.” Arri looked out of her living room window at the school and saw the children gathering in the playground. She looked back at the clock: seven twenty-five. “When did you learn to tell time?” She grabbed Zion’s hand and they rushed into the bathroom. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. I can’t believe this; I’m not even dressed for work!”

New York
    T he train shook feverishly as it rattled over the underground tracks from Uptown to Midtown, the echoes of iPods, conversations, leafing of newspapers and magazines, and the hissing of the train’s metal wheels filling the air.
    Lyfe sat in his seat flipping through the pages of the
New York Times
, wondering if he would be able to stand Manhattan’s winter.
    “Fuck it,” he mumbled to himself as he placed his steamy Starbucks coffee to his lips and concentrated on an article about investments. A few minutes later he felt a hard bump, which caused his coffee and newspaper to slip from his hands to the floor. He watched his coffee cup roll along the aisle, leaving a wet zigzag trail behind it, while the newspaper lay drenched on the floor beneath his feet. “What the—?”
    “I’m soooo sorry.”
    Lyfe looked up. He didn’t know what pissed him off more: his day being off to a fucked-up start or that the woman staring at him and handing him napkins was absolutely breathtaking. From the apple-butter color of her skin to the thick ebony curls that fell over her shoulders, to the way her three-quarter-length, gray wool car-coat lay perfectly on her defined hips, her whole package was stunning.
    Lyfe took the napkins from her hand and lightly dusted thespecks of coffee that had splattered on him. “As big as I am, you didn’t see me?” he snapped.
    “I’ma try this one last time.” She arched her eyebrows. “I’m sorry,” she said matter-of-factly. “The train
is
moving, in case you missed that. I’ve walked through three cars to find a free seat and this was the only open one I saw. Trust me; had there been somewhere else to sit, I wouldn’t be here.” She plopped down next to him.
    “And you still gon’ sit here?” He laughed in disbelief.
    She paused and looked directly in his face. “Hell yeah, but you’re free to move.”
    Lyfe stroked his chin. “You know what,” he said in an attempt to lighten the mood, “you owe me a cup of coffee.”
    “Umm-hmm.” She curled the right corner of her upper lip. “Yeah, you wait on that.”
    Lyfe cleared his throat and pushed the thought of checking her ass to the back of his mind. “You look really familiar.”
    “Oh … my … God,” she said, clashing gazes with him. “Are you serious?”
    Lyfe looked baffled. “About what?”
    “Are you trying to pick me up or some other bullshit?”
    “Pick you up?” he said, taken aback.
    “Pick …” she said slowly, “me … up. Because, seriously, I am not in the mood. I had a fucked-up morning and since I’ve been on the train it seems to have gotten worse.” She looked him over. “And I don’t know where you’re from, but understand this: we don’t do all of this random chit-chattin’ out here. Okay?” She stroked her hair behind her left ear, revealing a discolored birthmark that ran down the side of her neck. “And I don’t have the time nor the patience to be sitting here and wasting my time on some tired-ass suit-and-tie. So please save that for one of these other li’l bougie tricks