Messiah rode through the city streets brow bent with his gun lying in his lap, ready for easy access. A nigga had never and would never catch him slipping. So much had changed since he had been gone. He almost questioned if it was worth the effort to make things go back. He was merely a man. He didn’t have the power to rewind time. It was lost to him, but he prayed Morgan wasn’t. As he pulled into the short driveway and noticed the rented Benz sitting curbside, he prayed another wasn’t lost to him as well. Messiah exited the car and approached Bleu’s house.

“Fuck this nigga doing here, man?” Messiah mumbled. He had never had an issue with Iman before. They hadn’t been friends but friendly on behalf of a shared respect for the girl that stood between them, but today, Messiah felt a fire in his soul. Today, the conversation-turned-argument with Bleu over her moving to California was playing in his head on a loop. He had given her some time. He hadn’t wanted to crowd her after their argument, but pulling up seeing Iman was in town ignited him. The heavy hum of a semi engine pulled his attention down the block.

“I know this mu’fucka bet not pull up to this house,” Messiah mumbled. Sure enough, the white-and-orange U-Haul truck pulled behind Iman’s car.

Messiah turned to the house. On go. His entire mood had changed. The sight of movers flipped his switch. He didn’t even knock before snatching open the door.

“Yo, B!” His bark echoed through the house as he stalked through the home like he owned it.

“Uncle Messiah!” Saviour shouted as he came running down the stairs.

Messiah settled a bit at the sight of him. “What up, boi? The locs getting long,” Messiah said, wrapping Saviour in a headlock, then dragging him around the first floor in search of Bleu. “Where ya’ mama?”

Saviour laughed as he tagged along. “She’s upstairs with my dad. Are you going to come visit us in LA?”

Messiah released Saviour and faced him. “Let me ask you something. Do you want to move to Cali?”

“I’m kinda gonna miss my friends and you, but my mom says I’ll make new friends,” Saviour said.

Messiah bent down, noticing the laces of Saviour’s shoes were undone. “What’s these, man? We got to get you out of these mu’fuckin’ boat shoes and put something proper on your feet. Where the Js I got you?” Messiah asked as he tied Saviour’s shoes.

“They’re in boxes, and my mom said I can’t wear them ever since somebody beat up this boy at school and took his,” Saviour explained.

Messiah stood. “Ain’t nobody beating you up, nephew.”

“How do you know? What if they try to take my shoes?” Saviour asked.