I slid into bed, exhausted and eventually fell fast asleep.
I opened my eyes, and everything was dark. I tried to speak, but my words were caught in my throat, and I couldn’t utter a single word. I tried to stand but Instead, I begun to sink further and further down, I was submerged in water and the only thing I can do is swim. I push my body upwards and start to float towards the ceiling, I can't breathe.
I pounded at the concrete, but it would not even crack. I pound harder until my knuckles were raw and in pain— there had to be a way out. I swam lower until I reached the window, but it was covered with pages of books, just like The windows at the bookstore. I tore them away and gasped as I was met with the same pair of angel-like eyes from before. I realized that I should have been scared and that something was not right, but I wasn’t, and I broke the window and swam towards them into that infinite darkness.
I awoke with a gasp, checked my phone, and it was nearly 8 AM. It was bright outside. My dream did not surprise me, I always had very vivid dreams, and I also always believed that that was what made me a good artist. I took out my dream journal from the box underneath my bed and took notes before the pictures in my mind faded.
Cold blue eyes, the angel is drowning
I headed over to my drawing table and begun to sketch the images that flooded my mind; water, blood, broken glass, those eyes...those damn eyes that I couldn’t seem to escape.
Just then I heard the door unlock and a girl much shorter than I was with straight, long dark hair, full plump lips and rosy cheeks walked in with a cup of coffee in her hand.
"Oh, la belle au bois dormant finally awakens!" She chirped, her voice sweet and calm. "I was in here earlier, but I didn't want to wake you, so I went out to fetch us some boba milk tea from downtown."
"Us?” I repeated, still slightly disoriented from sleep, “That's so sweet of you— thank you." I smiled, taking the plastic cup and straw from her.
"It's honeydew flavoured. I thought it would be a good way for us to get acquainted." She beamed. She had this positive energy radiating off of her that I found soothing. "I'm Keomi, by the way."
"Well, thank you, Keomi. I'm Armani." I smiled back, and took a sip of the incredibly sweet tea as it teased my taste buds.
"You're American, no?" She asked, and I could immediately tell that she'd lived in France for a very long time.
"No, I'm Kenyan, but I've lived in America since I was ten." I clarified, "What about you?"
"I'm Japanese but I've lived here in Paris all my life." She told me with a slight laugh, "You have a complicated accent, it's going to annoy a lot of Parisians while you're here."
"Yeah, I get that a lot. My Kenyan accent got diluted with the American one so I tend to pronounce certain things differently," I explained.
"All the better. Parisians tend to be a little snobby. So we'll give them a taste of their own medicine." She smiled, and at that— I could tell we were going to be great friends.
I will be the first to admit that I have lacked companionship all my life. I never really had any legitimate friendships. I liked to tell myself that it was because I was too busy with academics, but I’m also aware that just because I tell myself that doesn’t mean it’s actually true.
I took a shower and put on a long-sleeved black sweater dress and a pair of black ankle boots. I undid the two braids I'd put in my hair before bed and combed out my afro. Keomi applied a natural shade of lip-gloss to her lips before turning to face me.
"Would you like to join some friends of mine and me for breakfast? They're really sweet I promise?" Keomi asked, and she proved to be one of those people you just can't say no to.
"Of course." I smiled back. I was planning to go to a random café and eat some fancy-ass French cuisine all on my own while finishing up my drawing.
"Are we going to take my car or yours?" I asked, making sure.
"Armani, you silly American girl, we're not going to drive to Le Deux Magots. We're going to walk there!" She chuckled, placing both hands on my shoulders.
“Walk?” I repeated, slightly stunned,
“Barely anyone in Paris drives to a café. So it would be a waste of fuel anyways.” She explained to me.
"Oh, Keomi, what would I do without you? You must teach me your Parisian ways before I accidentally tip the next waiter I see in dollars." I sighed, looking into her chestnut-brown doe eyes.
We made our way down the street and away from the academy. The air had the sweet whispers of summer as the leaves on the trees blossom a bright green. As Keomi and I kept talking, I learned that she had to be one of the biggest sweethearts ever. I wanted to tuck her away in a little castle and protect her and her heart forever.
"Tell me about your family," I asked, taking another sip of the irresistibly sweet boba tea.
"Well, my mom is Japanese and lived in Osaka all her life until she met my dad, he's French, and they moved here to Paris together to start a family. I have only one sister, Sakura. She's older than me and goes to school in Toronto." She explained, her eyes lighting up as she told me the story. "What about you?"
"Both my parents are Kenyan, my little brother Jaadi and I were born in Nairobi. We moved to Jacksonville Florida, when I was ten." I told her, and oddly enough, everything I said sounded straight off of a script, like I’d practised everything I would say.
"I've been to Kenya on holiday once when I was fifteen. I adore the culture and the food— oh my God, the food is amazing!" Keomi gleamed, reminiscing.
