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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
it was a short story for an english class. hope you like it. please tell me what you think, even if you hate it. thanks!

Submitted: August 10, 2016

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Submitted: August 10, 2016



“Nia, your Nike Company has gone from being a local business to becoming world wide. How did you accomplish this?”

I stared off to space and wondered how to answer this question. I hate press conferences. Being surrounded by needy people is not my thing, but I love being the center of attention.

“My father was a big inspiration. He was the inspiration and reason why I started this company,” I said fighting off tears. “No more questions.”

It has been over 14 years and I can’t help but feel it was my fault he couldn’t see my success. The year was 2000. I barely finished my international business major and was headed to the big apple. I had no idea what I was going to do with my life. The only passion I really had was running. I was in track and cross-country during high school. Through going from trial to error, I finally got the courage to start a business in running shoes, with the guidance from my father. My father being a lawyer, I asked him to represent me. My father, Nike Robinson, was a middle-aged man with dark hair and light brown eyes, just like me. He led me through conferences, meetings, presentations, and nothing. No one was interested in my business. “The athletic business isn’t in right now. Try again in a couple of years,” the businessmen would say. A couple of years? People are obese today! Sleepless nights and countless phone calls, I finally got someone to invest in my business.

“You know,” my father said the night before my big meeting, “the reason people wont represent you is because you’re a women. And you’re black.” I smiled. The only person who could be as blunt as a hammer could be my father. He suggested me to stay at the hotel in New York and let him do all the talking. I wanted to see him go so I went with him in a taxi all the way to the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001. I saw him get out of the car at exactly 7:45. My father hated being late. It was a bright morning, with the reflection of the cars almost blinding me, and I saw my fathers black suit walk into the south Tower to floor number 100. That was the last time I saw him. 

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