Looking up to the dark sky, stars all over. A full moon shines below over New York. It’s past 12, people are asleep, or should be asleep.

Gyan lays on the cement stairs just right out of a local library with a cigarette in his mouth, a black ski mask covering his face but eyes and mouth. He just got done with a day-to-day deal with other gangsters. “hmmm…” He lets out a tired sigh closing his eyes—seeming tired.