The scene? Florida Gulf Coast University. It's graduation day, and I received my bachelor's in communication. My mother? In tears; snot running down her nose like it's allergy season. My father? Gives me $1000 for all my hard work-as you can see, I'm dreaming big. We leave, I hop into my chili red 2022 Mini Convertible. Face? Beaming, joyful, and exuberant expression is plaster on my gorgeous face. My teeth are, in the words of Rihanna, "Shining bright like a diamond". It's November, just past 6 PM, and it's 78 degrees exact. Are my seat warmers on? Yes, I like my buns toasted. As I drive, I hear the ringing of my iPhone XR. The number?Unknown. But I live life on the edge, so I obviously pick up. Who's on the other line? None other than A.G Sulzberger, the publisher for The New York Times offering me a position. I respond with a simple, "sounds great, I'll talk to my manager about this", and hang up with a courteous "bye". Little does he know, I don't have a manager. I don't even know how to get a manager. Fast forward 3 years, I'm a successful journalist living in The Big Apple working for The NYT, and I have my big break: I get to interview the magnificent, gorgeous, talented specimen of a man that formally goes by Harry Styles; but I call him my air. The interview runs smoothly and my air, I mean Harry, loves the interview so much he invites me to dinner. Do I say yes? No. I have to make it seem like I am a busy, independent woman…because I am! Instead, I respond, "I can happily squeeze that in my schedule", with my teeth gleaming in those royal green eyes. We go to a restaurant that I can't even pronounce-one direction reference- and we talk about life, philosophy, and music. We exchange numbers, he gives me a ride to my overpriced apartment, and I give him a friendly peck on the cheek. Before I exit his Porshe, he utters "Let's do this again sometime", in his sultry British accent. With that, his dimples and his car fade in the darkness. I reluctantly go into my apartment, missing the curly-haired man. However, my sullen-state is uplifted when my Bombay cat, Jasper, greets me at my door. I gently caress his face and head towards my bedroom. Once my nightly routine of pampering myself and unwinding is over, I throw myself on my queen-sized bed and catch up on emails. It's the usual. Emails from Oprah asking for an interview, Beyoncé asking if I could go to Blue Ivy's birthday, you know, the usual Friday evening. But then, my phone chimes, and who would have thought. Harry Styles is texting me, asking when he could see me again. That, ladies and gentlemen, is what my future looks like.
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AuthorHi! I'm La'Kennya Huggins and I'm currently a senior in high school. This blog is primarily for my college course. Archives
November 2021
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