QR Code Murders: Do Black People Live in Delaware?

Yellow tape had been removed from the apartment. No glass or scorched ground appeared. Yawquisha thanked the cleanup crew.

She directed her full attention to the editing bay. Finally, she had a full array of controls to develop her storyline. The need to create and produce made in her mind a distinct idealism. She thought about the many too many ways for her work to be explored by herself. Anyone who decided to take in her offerings was a bonus.

With the power of an advanced system, she could make a documentary and add music, effects, and title cards. For her role in the heat of the action, she never felt like she was a victim. In fact, she was the victor over ignorance and hate.

When she had finally cued the video to be played on multiple video sites, she had enough time to breathe life over her project. By putting out past the boundaries of Delaware, America and reaching the globe, she knew she had to address everything and she did.

When the bloggers and vloggers got a hold of her piece, she reminded them that they had to license her work in order for it to appear on their commentaries. She had enough time to upload and relive the portions of the video. One person asked, from some place out in Michigan, if there were black people in the state of Delaware.

Another man wanted to know if she was single. She proudly said yes and that she would be forever. It was quite a shame since her gait, her face, her voice all added up to being a woman ready for any man’s hand.

She didn’t think about that, though. The work remained a steel beam constructing her life.

She viewed more of the video. It didn’t shock her that it was something that included the paramedics, police, and fire. Only one of these, the police, she considered to be proper components of the government.

In the time she first put up the content, she reveled in the fact she was watching the views increase. The video was up to ten thousand and she had just posted three minutes ago. She didn’t get excited, however. She instead hunkered down and put her social media skills to the test. By expanding on the importance of spreading her message through channels of online influencers and news outlets.

Friends of hers remained men on the street, socialites, and hustlers. Once she advanced to investigative private journalist, she knew that she had to level up if she wanted to understand the draw of her work.

Now, with this recent streak of demonstrators and rioters, movements and misunderstandings in the Small Wonder, Yawquisha knew she had to keep going or the whole thing would fall to pieces.

A phone call. It was Kim.

“What’s up?” Yawquisha asked.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay with your place all fixed up,” she said.

“Everything is fine. The mess is gone and nothing was touched.

“That’s good. If you want to ride-along, I’m going to be in Greenville. I guess it’s going to be like Murder She Wrote. I’ll be investigating murders of the elderly. So….”

“I would love to ride-along,” Yawquisha replied.

Kim became drawn to the answer and realized how important her work actually was. That someone almost half her age would still want to be a part of her investigations warmed her.

“Okay. I’ll pick you up on Friday. Bring your video stuff. You might find something compelling in all of it.”

i'll be sure to do that.”

“Thanks, ‘Quish,’” Kim mentioned.

“Thank you,” Yawquisha replied.