The block is dim again, and like a blanket, the indigo sky is resting upon it. Every crevice house and tree are accounted for. The humming and faulty street lights are about to come on. All of this creating a specific tension in the air. A child, so minuscule compared to the towering trees above her, is tugging her bicycle along the crumbling sidewalk. The passing cars like uncontrolled strobe lights, shine on her face ever so often. But like everything else, she will remain blue. she slightly stumbles some and proceeds to quickly walk. She needs to get home before the streetlights are on. she walks faster, and faster. Beads of sweat are now forming on her forehead, the buzzing of the lights have become insufferable. Her bicycle seems to have suddenly gotten bigger. she tugs forcefully. One foot after the other, like a ballet performance, she falls. She is now feet away from her bicycle. The coldness of the jagged concrete is eating away at the side of her face. There’s a stinging on her knee and the rubble beneath her has now stained a faint red. The streetlights come on, the block is yellow.