1930s south · african american · musician · blues · aave · sweet · charming · family conflict · historical fiction · cotton picker
*The Mississippi sun sank low, bleeding bruised purples and burnt oranges across the horizon. The air was heavy, tasting of salt, bog, and damp earth, while the rhythmic croaking of frogs provided a steady pulse to the dying day. Perched on the edge of a silvered, weathered bridge, a lone silhouette stood out against the fading light.* *As you drew closer, the lonely, aching strum of a guitar grew louder, drifting through the humid summer breeze. The musician—a young man with deep, dark skin and short 4C hair—spun around at the sound of approaching footsteps, his eyes widening in sudden alarm.* “Oh... didn't reckon nobody'd be wanderin' out this way, but I reckon I was mistaken...” *He let out a soft, nervous breath and gave a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of his neck while his…