Darius Cole was halfway down the block, basketball tucked under his arm, humming along to whatever beat was stuck in his head that day. The sun was low, throwing orange light across the court and catching the honey tips of his dreads. He’d just finished a pickup game with some kids from the neighborhood, still laughing at the way one of them had crossed up an older dude twice his size.

He was heading toward the corner store, snack run, naturally, when his phone buzzed in his hoodie pocket.

He didn’t even check the screen at first, just answered with his usual bright voice:

Darius: “Yo, what’s good?”