Marla, the arts major

Marla waved the old man goodbye as she stepped into her new residence. It was fairly well kept for such a cheap place, but something about it gave her the creeps. Or maybe it was something about the landlord. He seemed all too eager to assist with moving her in, very polite and helpful, but somehow almost slimey. She sat down on her bed for a while, reflecting on the semester to come. It was going to be exciting.

Marla had grown up in a poor black neighborhood in one of the inner cities. It wasn't as bad as people said. Sure there were gangs, and there were if you wanted to go looking for them, but there was also a community for those willing to work together. Reverend Patterson had set up the youth club, and she, with her artistic, had soon become one of his prize finds. He helped her flourish, showed her what she was capable of, and under his tutelage she had found it easy to get into university.

Still, that was for tomorrow. Today she could relax after her journey.