Traffic (LFW Preview)

What's up everybody? Happy Friday, and much love. I won't waste your time; I promised you a preview of "Late for Work" almost 3 days ago, so here you go. Leave comments and let me know what you think!

Late for Work

“…Gotta leave that nine to five up on the shelf!”

Malcolm boogies to the serenades of Michael while he awaits movement in the long line of traffic. It’s something about the Off the Wall album he relates to; each song tells a story so similar to his trials and tribulations that it seems Malcolm wrote the lyrics himself. He looks at his graduation tassels which hang from his rear view mirror. It seems like yesterday that he was frolicking with the crew, ruling the college empire as President of his own company, and strutting his stuff at all the parties with his “bruhs”.

It’s been one long year since that oh so important graduation day has come and gone, and Malcolm transitioned from not stopping “‘Til You Get Enough” to “Working Day and Night”.

“God, I’m tired,” he voices to himself. “I hope this woman has already cooked by the time I get there.”

He reaches for his phone lying in the passenger seat and begins dialing furiously, occasionally taking his eye off the road. After a few rings, he finally hears someone pick up.

“Hi, babe,” exclaims the sultry voice on the other end. “Where are you?”

“On my way,” is his quick response. “I’m stuck in traffic right now. Did you start cooking, dear?”

“Yes, Mally... Hurry up, I’m hungry.”

Her response forces a chuckle from me. “Okay; I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Malcolm returns his focus back to the road and continues to dance and sing loudly. Subconsciously, his belief is that the music will overcome the overwhelming notion that his job is buns, booty, wack; it stinks.

When he finally reaches his apartment, his body and soul merge to produce a sense of relief. He does not immediately walk inside; Malcolm sits and gathers himself inside the car. While looking in the rear view mirror, he rubs his hand across his close cropped haircut. He reminisces, nearly fantasizes about the afro he donned just a short time ago.

“Hi, my name is Malcolm Brown, aka Can you take us to Wawa?” he calls in reference to his common calling to ride pretty ladies and cheap car-less friends to the local convenience store.

At 23, he is a shell of his lively self, dying to return to glory. While cognizant of the blessings God provided, Malcolm yearns to change the world, and become wealthy during his journey. There are a few things, however, that Malcolm knows he needs to reach his vision.