Stephen walked along the cracked sidewalk, lost in thought, kicking at the loose chips as he wandered slowly towards Will’s housing unit.
“Stephen, hey,” he heard Rick shout from across the street. “Come here.”
“Hey, Rick.” Stephen looked over. Rick was seated on an old bike, one foot propped on a pedal, the butt of his BB gun planted on the seat, the muzzle pointed toward the sky.
“Come here.” It was a command.
“Can’t.” Stephen shook his head. “I gotta get over to Will’s.”
Rick leveled the muzzle and sighted down the barrel toward Stephen.
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