Love at first white

He didn't know how to describe her, except that she was very white. The way she'd throw about her rumbustious ideas like reality had no bearing on her. He couldn't help but admire her. Her privilege so clear you could see right through her. He admired her openness. The way she easily trusted the process. It made her bold, and able to speak up; to try and solve problems that could never be solved like poverty. He admired her optimistic view on life. He wanted to support her. Go along for this Santa ride, throw down gifts down chimneys hoping Christmas' came along with life insurance.

So he followed her or tried to. Traced her footsteps into rallies for trees till black lives got hit and discussions escaped. The way she run along, superhero cape in place, strutting around the city oblivious of her actions that triggered bullets to only hit black 'strays'. He wanted to stop her. Tell her some battles are always going to be lost but that meant she'd lose her smile. So he let her, dropped down his black knowledge and embraced the privilege life had handed her. You know, the privilege that made her plan vacations to Japan but charity trips to Kenya. So he strutted down the street, holding her privilege in his hand and for the first time he felt it. He felt the freedom she had felt all her--

Bang!

They couldn't see it.