“Baby, please, just let me come in,” DeAndre pleaded from the sidewalk in front of the apartment building. “We can talk about this, we can work it out…she didn’t mean anything to me…”

“SHUT UP!,” Donnika screamed, hurling another armload of DeAndre’s clothes from the third-floor window. “Get your mess outta here! I’m done! I’m done!”

Having exhausted his dresser drawers, now Donnika was flinging his CDs one by one into the air, the jewel cases spiraling like Frisbees. “See that, you dog?,” she taunted. “I don’t need you or your damn CDs anymore! I’ve got an iRiver Clix 2GB Media Player now! It holds 500 songs in MP3 and WMA formats, and plays MPEG-4 video files on its 2.2” color LCD! And its USB 2.0 connection satisfies my data-transfer needs like you never could! Bastard!”

“Come on, now, baby, it doesn’t have to be like this,” DeAndre begged. But he was stunned into silence as Donnika staggered up to the window, a bulky black shape filling her arms. It couldn’t be…but it was!

“Not my stereo, baby! Please! Not my stereo!” She shoved the receiver and speakers into open space, wiping her hands theatrically. Panicked, DeAndre bolted forward as if to catch his beloved sound system, then ducked away helplessly from the falling stereo components. They cracked into pieces on the sidewalk.

As he knelt amid the wreckage, DeAndre knew he was beaten. There was no point in arguing anymore. In a daze, he tried to piece together the shards of a Young Jeezy disc. Around him lay the broken remnants of his life, audio components and black jeans and bright silver CDs scattered like garbage on the street. Maybe it was time to make some changes.

Back to top