From I had a thing for Usher back in the day. Any brother with his nose curvature or flat rounded face would get a second glance. Mark could’ve been his twin. Sans the purple silk shirts and skully caps, he stood at an arresting 6’5—beautiful and godly to all who dared to look.

We met the usual way, through a friend of a friend, and found ourselves chitchatting often and eventually going on dates. I found myself holding hands with a newcomer, listening to his every word and getting to know his depth.




His momma.

My momma.


I was a Christian and he was Jehovah’s Witness; his face slightly cringed at the news, but I dismissed it when he kissed my cheek and said he couldn’t wait to see me again.

Dismissing gets you nowhere.

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