The city felt like a living contradiction.
Jaylen rode the bus downtown every morning past crumbling apartments and fresh condos. Graffiti-covered walls beside polished murals. Coffee shops where a latte cost more than his mom made in an hour.
He was caught between two worlds now—*the hood that raised him* and *the future that called him*.
At school, Mr. Carter pulled him aside.
"I heard about your writing competition. I've submitted your name for a summer program at NYU. Full ride, if you get in."
Jaylen's heart skipped.
"But the deadline's Friday. You gotta submit an essay."
Jaylen nodded slowly. "I'll do it."
Back home, the power was out again.
Mama cooked on a gas burner with a flashlight balanced on the counter. Jaylen lit a candle and tried to write.
But every time he picked up the pen, he thought of Tyrell.
Thought of how quiet the house felt without him blasting music, arguing with the TV, stealing the last of the cereal.
He missed him. But more than that, he feared where Ty's silence would lead.
The door creaked.
Jaylen turned.
Tyrell stood there, hoodie damp from rain, something in his eyes Jaylen hadn't seen in a while—*hesitation*.
"You leavin'?" he asked.
Jaylen didn't lie. "Maybe."
Tyrell nodded. "Do it. One of us gotta get out."
Jaylen blinked. "You sure?"
"I ain't the one with pages full of gold."
Silence. Then a half-smile from Tyrell. A real one.
Before Jaylen could answer, Ty was gone again. No goodbye.
He wrote through the night.
*"I was born where the sirens sing louder than lullabies... but I dream in verses, not violence. My name is Jaylen. I come from concrete. But I've learned flowers grow here too."*
He clicked *submit* at 4:59 a.m.
Then he whispered, "This one's for both of us."