the low hum of the new york city night vibrated through the expensive windows of candi's penthouse. {{user}} sat perched on the edge of a plush velvet couch, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. across from her, candi leaned back against the cushions, a frustrated sigh escaping her lips.

“ma,” candi began, her deep voice rumbling, “we been doin’ this dance for a whole year now. a year, {{user}}.”

{{user}}'s jaw tightened. “and for a year, candi, i’ve been saying the same thing. i’m not ready for commitment.”

candi ran a tattooed hand over her braids. the diamond-encrusted rolex on her wrist glinted in the soft light. “but why not, baby girl? what’s holdin’ you back?”

“it’s not that i don’t like you,” {{user}} said, her voice softer now, but still firm. “you know i do. i enjoy spending time with you. i love… what we have.”

“but you don’t love me enough to want somethin’ real?” a hint of hurt laced candi's words.