Safiya had erased all traces of Jack from the managing editor's office. His pushpin holed wall was covered up with chalkboard paint. His desk still remained but was spruced up with her gold pencil cup, lamp, pencil sharpener (he was pro-mechanical and she loved the smell of the wood freshly sharpened), and petite succulent in a ceramic pot—a congratulatory gift from Harmony.

The low bookshelf running along the wall behind her magenta desk chair, a get caught by the eye of Lela, was still a little bare with a scattering of books. Some were books she read, some textbooks she gathered throughout her academic career and some that she used as writing resources. The last row in the corner was stocked with toys and stuff animals Ameera loved.

Above the bookshelf was a blown up picture, a service she only had advantage to since Trevor had a new job a photography studio. A memento taken by her dad while they were in his ancestral homeland—her and her sister in front of the colorful Belize sign monument. It should've made her sad to set her eyes on the image but in a way it felt as if they were there with her and she liked that. Maybe they'd be proud of her accomplishment, if she told them but she hadn't had the courage to call. It was still to soon and she wasn't amped to hear the cold, resentment in her parents voice, not yet.

Making the office her own gobbled up her week thus being the main reason she was at T.U.G on the weekend during one of the biggest football games of the year. She stood in front of the window, with a view of the stadium. The crowd near the grassy patch of land near the facility appeared as ants to her with vibrant colors shining under the summer sun.

Being a reporter for T.U.G since freshman year and wearing many hats—writing on an variety of articles, she knew the excitement that was unfolding. The tailgate food, which would crash any fad diet cloaked the air with it's greasy, cheesy hold in your hand goodness. Music electrified the steamy humid air pumping up the droves of students, alumni, and football fans before the game commenced. Trivia and sports related games fueled the competitive edge until the coin toss and Safiya missed it all.

"Homecoming will be better, Meera." She turned away from the window to see the baby had finally giving into the sleep she tried so hard to fight.

Safiya, herself fought the urge to walk over to the playpen and caress her face. "Time to finally get some work done."

A simple smile tugged up her lips as she sat at her desk. A couple of days ago she refused to take the backpack portable playpen Carter brought over to her house. It was too much, she told him in the driveway. She didn't need it but now seeing her baby girls sleeping soundly on the comfy mattress that she was playing in earlier she was grateful he didn't listen to her.

"I hope Lilane gets some good pictures for the site." She muttered, her mind still on the game as she woke up her laptop.

She let out a sigh as the backlight on the device shined on her face. Her mind ran over the list of things she had to catch up on before Monday morning made its debut. She could easily follow the plan that Neysa setup after Jack's departure but she wanted to make the job her own, which meant studying past articles and determining which articles brought in the most traffic, garnered the most comments and had the most likes.

Minutes ticked on the clock and sitting in front of the digital screen waned her eyes urging her to put on her glasses. As she slid the spectacles over the bridge of her nose a light tap attracted her sight to the opened door.

"Yes," Safiya's eyebrows knitted together at the person darkening her doorway. Perplexity swarmed in her mind as she tried to place the strange face of the person. Was she a report for the paper? She'd worked with all of them and she had never had the pleasure of collaborating with the young woman before her.

Maybe a photographer? No, Safiya would have been sure to recognize the highly melanated beauty with and afro that would put Jackson 5 to shame hanging around the office during the hours of operation.

The lines in her eyebrows slacked but the confusion remained, "How may I help you?"

"I really didn't think anyone would be here." The young woman gave a relieved smile, her eyebrows rising up as she strolled in. "Cute baby."

"Thanks."

"She yours?" She stood behind the generic chairs in front of the desk and only when Safiya gestured for her to sit she lowered her lean body down.

"Yes." Safiya face was blanketed with softness and admiration as she peeked over at her baby lying flat on her back in the 'Back up off me' graphic onesie Alyssa claimed she needed to back into a t-shirt for herself. "All mine."

"Sweet." She nodded then extended her hand. "Lyric."

Safiya courteously shook her hand, "Nice to meet you, Lyric. I'm Safiya."

"Oh, I know." She set her hand on top of her purse. 'That's why I'm here."

"Really." The wrinkles were back in Safiya's eyebrows. "Why?

Lyric unzipped her purse and pulled out her phone. "Have you ever seen something and got a feeling that something was off...like something didn't sit right with you?"

"I'm a reporter.." She intertwined her fingers, scooting her chair closer to the desk leaning in as if she was about to hear a secret spoken amongst friends. "I'd have to say I'm acquainted with the feeling."

"Yeah, I know. I read your articles from last year...when I was a freshman. That's why I knew you were the person I should bring this too." She swiped through her phone for a couple of seconds then turned it towards Safiya.

Safiya leaned in a little further taking in the picture of of Lyric and another girl taking a picture.

"You see her." Lyric pointing to the feminine form in distance, sidewalk lights shining the way. She made the image bigger, focusing on the person. "You see the blood."

Safiya sat back after she caught sight a the scarlet substance painting the girl's leg and the portion of thigh she could see, "You should take this to the police. Not me."

"I did." Lyric turned her phone back to herself quickly closing the app. "They said they couldn't do anything. That's why I came to you."

"To me." Safiya's voice ticked up just as her phone dinged from and incoming text.

Carter: How's the bean. I'm going to this dinner. Pray for me please.

Safiya flipped over the phone. Not now Carter. "Why me?"

"You wrote that piece about the girl the was raped at the hospital um....Amanda...or Ashley."

"Alyssa."

She snapped her fingers. "Yeah, that's it." She shook her head enthusiastically. "There's a problem on this campus and if someone doesn't do anything about it, it's just going to get worse."

"You think she was raped?" Safiya pointed to the phone still in Lyric's hand.

"Something bad happened."

"To do an article I have to interview the person...I can't interview a person I don't know."

Lyric thought for a second then her obsidian eyes shined, "She's a red-head. There can't be that many on campus."

"Investigative reporting." Safiya shook her head and Lyric mirrored the action, no doubt for a different reason. "I'm an editor now." She pointed to the sign on the door, Lyric glanced over her shoulder to read the title 'managing editor' under her name. "I don't have time to do those things now. Not with class and...." Her sight drifted over to Ameera, her arms moving signalling she was on the tail end of the nap and about to wake up.

"A daughter. Yes." Lyric eagerly scooted to the edge of the chair. "What if this was your daughter? Would you ignore because of your workload or do something about it? I don't have the skills." She stood up. "But you...you do."

Safiya collapse back in the chair with a hard sigh, peering over at Ameera whom had now opened her eyes. "Email me the picture." She raked her hand through her hair. "I'll see what I can do."

What should Safiya do? Should she investigate or hand it off to another reporter?

Should she text Carter back or ignore it. Is it a dangerous habit in the making?