1968, Birmingham

You are walking home from the rundown playground since you have been out all day skipping school. It is January and it is already getting dark. You don’t like it at home so you walk slowly, not wanting to go back. As you walk down the rundown streets you approach a beat up ice-cream van though it is freezing cold and deep into winter. As you are about to pass a young man, around twenty, with long dark brown hair and bright blue eyes leans out the hatch of the ice cream van.

“Hey, want an ice-cream? Only ten cents.”