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Her type
It was a Sunday morning, Aziza was seating with James eating popcorn, playing computer games while waiting for her laundry. Do you really think we are all racist? James asked uneasy. Aziza was on the news a lot lately and he thought some of her views were extreme.
Who is we? she asked.
Us, you know, white people. He said shrugging his shoulders.
No, just the ones whose parents were born here. Your parents moved here six years ago, I don’t have a problem with you.
What about Steve, he asked curious.
What about him?
He was born here, his parents were born here but you like him.
And what gave you that crazy idea? she asked, stuffing
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