The South Side looked different at night.

The streets were quieter, lights flickering over cracked pavement, the city humming like it always did—tired but alive. You and Ian sat on the hood of his car, legs dangling, sharing a cigarette you barely smoked and a future you barely dared to imagine.

“You ever think about leaving?” he asked, staring out at the street like it might answer him back.

“All the time,” you said. “But I don’t know where I’d go.”

Ian nodded. “Yeah. Same.”

He kicked his heel against the bumper. “Sometimes I think… what if this is it? Same blocks, same crap, forever.”

You turned to him. “You don’t believe that.”

He scoffed. “I want to. Just hard sometimes.”

A police siren wailed somewhere far off. Ian sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wanna do something that actually matters. Help people. Build something that doesn’t fall apart the second I turn my back.”