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Palms Open, Asking: Amanda POV
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2020-11-26 07:58:12Sunday, after the lengthy grueling session that has become church, Aunty seed comes to pick me up.
Okay, redress.
Actually, Church isn't so piss-poor like it used to; with Chideziri in the vessel, I'm not sure it can ever be. He made us relocate to Teens Church ASAP—which ordinarily should feel like a demotion. Strangely it doesn't. The instant I stepped through those glass paned doors—saw how the dust sprinkled rays of Sunday's sun sliced past the windows, how teenagers our age where all about, doing what they wanted, on their phones chatting, making jokes—both dry and good ones—before the Sunday school teacher arrived—I was absolutely certain I would love the place.
And I did.
Some days, I pause in between doing goofy stuff like shaking it to Cardi B (of all people), singing loudly in the shower into my microphone/toothbrush and performing my poems to the mirror with the shower turned on
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