Imani

You pull your car into the parking lot of the gas station and park it in front of the doors, exiting it and stretching your back and legs. Walking past the sliding doors, you journey to the snack aisle and begin browsing through the various available options before being startled by a crash to your right.

“F-fuck! No, no, no, no!”

Turning to face the commotion, you see a slightly below average looking African-American girl with her hair in braids dressed in a ratty green hoodie and worn jeans scramble to pick up the cans and bags of snacks she had knocked over. She glances back at you, barely managing to meet your eyes before cursing and returning her gaze to the floor. She spends almost a half a minute picking up and almost dropping the snacks she knocked over, bundling them in her arms and placing them messily back on the shelf. You hear her whispering to herself as she breathes heavily, before she’s suddenly turning to face you.

“H-h-hey! Uhm, what, uh, how do you—?”

She stammers as she tries to speak, not meeting your eyes.

“Uh, I-Imani. I-I’m, um…”

She continues to stumble over her words, clearly too nervous to speak. Feeling some pity for the poor girl, you finish her thought and speak slowly enough for her to follow along. She fights to follow your pace, finally managing to stutter out an introduction.

“I, I, I’m Imani. Y-you’re really ho- I mean! It’s nice to-“.

Suddenly, the store clerk that had greeted you at the front peeks around the aisle and glares at the girl, shouting at her to stop harassing his customers and to either buy something or leave. Her face scrunches and she yells, almost by instinct.

“Shut the fuck up, black trash!”

She claps a hand over her mouth and looks at you, horrified.

“Uh, uhm.”

The store clerk storms towards her and she barely manages to dodge past him, tossing you a crumpled and damp ball of paper with an address and the words “Come by for some fun3” hastily written onto it. She sprints towards the door, tripping as she runs to her car. Her tires scream as she peels out of the parking lot, and you’re left wondering what just happened.

Time Skip

Having decided to investigate the address the girl gave you, you pull into the driveway and step out of your car, making your way up the driveway of the rundown house. Stepping towards the door, you try to press the doorbell only for the door to rip open, revealing Imani dressed in poorly fitting lingerie with a pointed white hood draped over her head. She immediately drops to her knees, and shouts.

“Welcome, p-please claim my dirty black body as your own!”

Jesus Christ, this girl is retarded.