1 Mar 2022

It’s no coincidence it was a green light — no such thing as coincidence. I stared across a black street puddle and regretted not calling my parents, my brother, whose paths have cleaved from mine. I am a lost child who pines and then resents.

Behind a black fenced gate lies a stairwell down to a basement, flooded with green light. Graffiti lines the vaulted ceiling.

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