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Once she’d been radical; her Angela Davis/street/door knocker–earring vibe had appealed to his light-skinned insecurities so that having her at his side had authenticated his questionable blackness. That initial attraction felt flimsy to him now that they were middle-aged, altered by parenthood and property taxes. He felt hoodwinked, entrapped in a predictably bourgeois life, heading on a holiday that lacked imagination, wonder, and risk.
Nobody had a sense of direction anymore, including himself. They were too dependent on screens.
“We’re in Trump country now,” she remarked. “If this was our grandparents’ time, we’d be traveling with the Green Book so we’d know where it was safe for black folks to stop along the way.”
“Is he going to hurt Daddy?” Thurgood asked. They’d recently given him “the talk” about police brutality as scripted by Brown Sugar Babies, #BlackLivesMatter. Now the boy was panicking.
Reginald felt glad for the reprieve but also strangely disappointed. The officer seemed in no way threatened by him. Was he that lacking in virility?
The place put Reginald in mind of a homier, cheaper version of the Overlook Hotel.
His teachers said he had ADD and were quick to recommend Adderall. Reginald disagreed with the diagnosis. He felt the boy was just undisciplined and immature. And here was the proof: How could Thurgood have attention deficit disorder when he was this fixated?
This is such film critic bro energy.
“Let go of me! You don’t care about what other people want,” Thurgood yelled. “You only care about what you want!”
So far this is nothing but the truth
“I wish you’d stop acting so superior,” Ladette replied. “You’re killing us all with your bitterness.”
fearing that he didn’t deserve them,
He doesn't, but okay
Unsettled, he reached for his penis and found it half-hard.
After an active shooting nightmare????
I’m a clown, and not even an endearing one.
