Fate is as fickle as an unattended flame, you never know what’s going to happen—and sometimes all that’s left are the ashes.
Twice now my life has been altered by the choice of someone else.
The first time I was ten; when my mom got married she moved us into a better neighborhood, which meant I had to leave behind everything and everyone I loved.
The second time was six years later; when someone made the choice to drive instead of calling a cab, my life was once again altered and I had to move back to the place I left. Harley had always been a bad neighborhood, but things had gotten so much worse.
No one should walk down the streets alone after dark, and gangs ruled everything, including the classrooms.
Then there were them; Vail, Lee, and Shaw.
The three boys I grew up with. I cried over them for days after we moved away, the loss I felt was only overshadowed by the knowledge that they didn’t want me there.
Once upon a time they tried to protect me from the hardships of our neighborhood. Now they are thehardship.
But like the nursery rhyme we used to sing said, eventually,
We all fall down.
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