"I understand that, but you can't seriously expect me to do something about it, can you?" Tariq said into the phone. "I mean, he's your boss, not mine."
He pulled a black collared shirt over his head just as Zora let out a string of expletives on the other end.
Rummaging through his closet, Tariq searched for a pair of pants. "Look, why don't you have your dad go up there and talk to him? I'm sure he can straighten it out, no?"
Settling on a pair of cream-colored slacks, he slid his left leg in when Zora's voice snapped through the phone.
"It's not that I can't ask my dad," she said, frustrated, "but I want you to do it!"
Tariq paused, raising an eyebrow. "And why do you want me to do it?"
As he lifted his right leg, she continued, "Because I love you, Tariq."
His foot snagged on the waistband.
Thud.
He hit the floor hard.
The phone tumbled out of his hand and skidded across the hardwood floor of his closet.
"BAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Zora's laughter exploded through the speaker.
Groaning, Tariq stood up, slid his other leg into the pants, and walked over to retrieve his phone—where Zora was still wheezing uncontrollably.
"Yeah, yeah. Keep laughing," he muttered, bending down to pick it up, the irritation bleeding into his voice.
"You busting your ass will never not be funny," she said between giggles.
He rolled his eyes and grabbed a pair of black dress shoes. "Anything else you wanna say before I hang up?"
Walking back into his room, he sat on the edge of his bed and pulled the shoes on.
"You're trying to get rid of me!" she cried dramatically.
"Yes," he replied flatly, standing and heading into the bathroom.
"You know this is why I'm your only friend, right?"
He set the phone on the sink and started inspecting his appearance in the mirror. "And? You're the only friend I need."
She stuttered for a beat.
Then, softer, "Have a good first day. We can celebrate it later!"
Click.
She hung up.
Tariq sighed and continued inspecting his appearance, starting from the top of his head.
His black hair was neatly trimmed and faded down the sides. His eyes lingered on his reflection. His mom always said he was handsome—bragging about it to anyone who'd listen. But Tariq wasn't so sure.
He always thought his mouth was too big, his nose too small. Years of teasing as a kid had left him with a less-than-stellar opinion of himself.
His thoughts drifted to Zora. She had a way of irritating him like no one else could. Still, Tariq had always felt a connection to her—after all, they'd grown up together. But he was convinced she didn't see him that way. And so, he told himself he didn't see her that way either.
And to him, that was just fine.
His phone buzzed, snapping him out of his thoughts—a new text.
It was from Zora:
You look fine. Get out of there or you're going to be late!
He glanced at the time in the top left corner of his screen.
8:42 a.m.
"Shit."
He needed to leave by 8:45 to get to campus by nine.
Thumbing a quick Thanks back to her, he hurried out of the bathroom. Grabbing his backpack and keys from the hooks by the door, he gave his apartment one last glance.
Once everything looked good, he turned the handle, stepped outside—
—and closed the door behind him.
Locking the door, Tariq turned and made his way to the stairwell of his apartment complex.
It was 84 degrees today—warmer than usual for Dahlonega, Georgia in August. Still, it was perfect weather for a quick stroll.
Today was his first day as a professor.
And he'd be damned if he was late.
As he rounded the final flight of stairs, he nearly collided with Mrs. Patterson—an elderly woman who lived next door—slowly making her way up.
"Ah—sorry, Mrs. Patterson! I'm in a rush," he said, steadying himself as he bounded down the last step and out the building.
"Good luck on your first day, Tariq!" she called after him, her voice faint but warm.
She was a good neighbor. Always doting on him when she could.
I need to have dinner with her again, he thought with a chuckle before refocusing on the task at hand.
Rounding the corner, Tariq made his way down the street. He pulled out his phone to check the time.
8:45.
Perfect.
He was only ten minutes away.
Slowing his pace, he let himself take in the scenery—familiar, but always comforting. It was moments like these that helped calm him down.
The low rumble of car engines as they passed or idled at the intersection. The distant sound of children laughing at the preschool. The soft clinking of silverware and conversation drifting from the diner on the corner.
All of it brought him a small sense of peace.
He needed it. His anxiety had been bad lately.
His mind wandered as he walked. Memories bubbled to the surface—moments, words, smiles—and all of them featured one person.
He shook his head and smiled.
And before he knew it… he was at the campus.
As he made his way to his building Tariq took another look around.
Students moved in clusters—some holding hands, others deep in conversation about classes. A few walked alone, lost in thought.
He liked watching from the outside. After all, he was just like them not too long ago.
Reaching his building, he pulled the door open. A wave of cool air hit him, crisp and refreshing.
He stepped inside.
Walking down the hallway, he scanned the room numbers until he found his own—on the left.
Without hesitation, he opened the door and stepped in.