I was playing with my 4-year-old little sister, Mia, when there was a knock on the door. I got up, pushing Mia off my lap despite her protests, and looked through the peephole. I almost didn't see anything because of the rain, but when I squinted, I could see the tall, thin outline of the building manager, Mr. Barrington.

I opened the door and was greeted with a blast of cold November air. I could barely see our visitor, and I was freezing in my thin, hand-sewn nightie so I said, "Won't you come in?"

Well, come in he did. He shook off his black coat all over me, which did nothing to warm me up, and then tossed it to me. I was tempted to just throw it back at him, but I decided against it, because I have a feeling this isn't a friendly visit.

I hung it up, and mutely showed him into the kitchen, where Mama and Papa sat at the table. Papa was comforting Mama because she didn't get the higher paid nurse job that she wanted (and really needed).

She should have gotten that job. Everyone knows that she's the best nurse in our neighborhood. All the kids come to her when they have a boo-boo they need her to kiss, or a scrape that needs cleaning.

I know why she didn't get that job. I didn't tell her because she firmly believes that whites and blacks are equal.

I have news for her: they aren't.

Blacks win every time.

And we're white.

A/N: Nobody take offense at this. It is fiction. I wrote this months ago because I was mad at white police officers for shooting black people.

Also, this is a one-shot. Never gonna update it.

~ Via