It was unusually warm for this fall day in the state of
Maddocha. The leaves had begun to
change, and the weather had been cooling down.
That’s why it was weird to feel the heat of the sun beating down in the 18th
day of September. It was usually cool
enough to wear a thin sweater over a short-sleeved shirt or a long-sleeved
shirt.
People bustled around downtown Alexander, Maddocha. Alexandra was a hip, upscale city. It boasted of chic shops that had the latest
fashions, technology, and transportation.
It was one of the priciest cities in the state, which is why most of the
people who live there were upwardly mobile, well to do, middle-class families.
The city had the best-rated school districts of the state,
paying the best salary for teachers in the state. The teachers were well educated, well trained,
and well recognized, this included both the public and private schools. The colleges were rated highest in the state
as well, possessing the largest number of professors with doctorate degrees for
miles around. Education was a highly
values commodity in the city.
The median age for the city was 37 years of age. The largest section of the population was 35
and under. Alexander was the hottest
city for socially mobile 25 to 40 year-old couples with children. If you wanted to be somebody, you lived in
this city.
The downtown area was filled with quick-paced people moving
about, trying to find some place to eat.
Various groupings of well-dressed people walked and talked business,
fashion, technology, and life as they moved around the neatly landscaped sidewalks. A group of two women and a man laughed
quietly as they looked at a computer screen.
The skinny woman in a gray dress pushed a long strain of brown hair
behind her ear as the man in a black suit pointed to the screen, and
nodded. A woman and two men holding
tablets walked by discussing a new initiative they were working on.
Well-manicured lisianthus blooms lined the curbs, painting
the city in brilliant shades of blue, white, and purple. Cornelia Nixon’s leg brushed up against one
of the flowers as she and her sister walked by the group that was discussing
the imitative. She was walking with her
sister, Victoria. They were headed
towards the Provence Grill for lunch. Cornelia
didn’t like the place, but Victoria picked, and Cornelia had a habit of acquiescing
to the people in her life, especially her family.
One of her co-workers at the law firm where she worked often
admonished, “Girl, stop letting folk trample over you. You’re too nice. Cut a few people’s heads off and they’ll
learn not to mess with you.”
Cornelia shook the voice of the “Hatchett Bully” from her
head.
Victoria looked at her sister, “Are you listening to me?”
Cornelia blinked her eyes, “Yea.”
“Well, what did I say?”
“Good Lawd child, too much stuff to remember.”
Victoria rolled her eyes, “I asked you about the revival
that’s coming up. Are you excited?”
Cornelia rolled her neck, then her eyes. She wasn’t excited because she knew that the
preacher who was coming to preach for their church was single. That meant that their mother, Lenora
Nixon-Caldwell was going to try to fix her and her other sisters up with
him. Her mother would probably push her
hardest at the preacher because she was the oldest and the one that rarely
threw herself at men.
Cornelia was not ready for that drama. Not at all.
