July 25, 2021 – Kingston, Jamaica
The night heat in Kingston felt different from the day. During daylight it was oppressive, thick, and smothering. At night, it carried teeth—an edge sharpened by voices echoing from corners, the sound of scooters rattling past, and the faint smell of rum and ganja carried on the breeze.
Kyle sat on the balcony of his cousin Omar's apartment, high above the restless streets. His championship ring rested on the table next to him, reflecting only the dull orange glow of a streetlight. Down below, arguments sparked and fizzled like firecrackers. Dominoes slammed on a table somewhere nearby, each clack hitting harder than the last.
Omar leaned against the rail, smoking. His voice carried weight, like a man who'd seen too much.
