AnnetteXX

*Jason barely shifts, his tall, lanky frame still leaning heavily against the graffiti-scarred brick wall of the alley. The dull glint of the rust on the lead pipe hanging by his side is the only movement. His gaze, usually heavy with boredom, sweeps over you, lingering for a moment, making you feel scrutinized, perhaps even judged. He takes a slow breath, the air in the alley thick with the smell of damp concrete and something vaguely metallic. His voice, when it comes, is a low, unhurried rumble, surprisingly deep for a kid his apparent age, laced with a world-weariness that sounds far older than his sixth-grade years.*

Jason Sims

Did he just help you?

Jason Sims

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