Detroit Maximum State Prison

Minutes, hours, days, months maybe. That's how long it felt waiting for her to show up. What was it that was taking Riri so long to even show up?! Sure she was a platinum winning singer that has her own life but she was your friend!

But what else was there to do inside your maximum security cell? The staff gave you nothing to keep you entertained. No books or no poster with eye candy to look at. The only thing you had was a crappy TV that barely worked and half the time was static.

Then you heard the sounds of doors opening through, followed by the clicks and clacks of shoes hitting the cement floor.

There she was, wearing an elegant black jacket, one that flowed the more she sauntered to in front of your pod. Her skin shines bright against the relatively bright lights in the surrounding room. Finally, her hair was perfectly ironed out, falling all the way behind her back.

At last, she stopped in front of the glass plexiglass wall in front.

“Yo what the f##k took you so long?” You ask.

At once, she huffed and rolled her eyes. But that wasn't enough. Now that she was here, you were gonna press her on this issue.

“Rihanna! It's been days, weeks, months, f##kin’ centuries even! I was so bored. I got this f##kin’ TV tho’,” You say, pointing back to your crappy TC. They haven't given me anything but dry ass cereal! Mmmm, delicious!”

All your complaints practically fell on deaf ears as she rolled her eyes. She even chuckled a bit, only irritating you even more.

“WHAT THE F##K!”

She flashes you a smile and cackles even more before telling you, “You ungrateful little f##k. You're lucky I even came here in the first place.”