The child didnt consider himself a child, in fact he fiercely resented and was overly bitter to anyone who called him so. The child lived the steriotypical, inner city, single mom life so I wont elaborate on it. He inevitably ended up in a “gang” he didnt excell in any particular subject and always made a point to make the unwelcome painfully aware of their situation. However at this moment he wasnt angry nor did he feel any bitterness toward the man on what he dubbed his turf.
The man appeared in his fourties with a respectable business suit more or less on. He had removed his jacket and placed it on a small decorative flag proudly proclaming the persons former alliegences. The lower part of the jacket lay on the ground, mirroring the mans vain atempts to mend his helpless life. Even in the fleeting light the child was able to make out the man rasing the gun to his face, and after a loud but not unfarmiliar sound he could see the man looking down.