It wasn't the sound of the gunshots that startled Kendrick, not anymore. It was the silence that followed. For a full thirty seconds, the world held its breath. Then the hum of life returned: tires screeching on the highway, sirens in the distance, and the low chatter of the night screening back into the streets.
Kendrick wiped the sweat from his brow, ignoring the heat that radiated off the concrete beneath his feet. His basketball rolled to a stop by the fence, and he hesitated before picking it up. The game was never truly over on this court, not until you left it behind.
The streetlights flickered, casting a long shadow over him as he slung his bag over his shoulder. He glanced back at the court, where bloodstains from a fight weeks ago still marred the free throw line.
"One day," he muttered to himself, "I'll be out of here. One day."
But deep down, Kendrick knew that day was far from coming. And the streets? they wouldn't let him go that easily.