Sewn in Success

he labyrinthine alleyways behind his apartment building. The air, thick with the stench of overflowing dumpsters and something vaguely human, clung to him like a shroud.

days, gnawed at his insides, a dull

her, Randle, a hulk of a man with a face perpetually contorted in a drunken rage, was still fresh. The sickening crack of his fist connecting with Kenneth

aded denim, surrendered to patches of bare earth, and the swings, once a source of childhood joy for wealthier kids, hung limp and broken like the dreams of this forgot

d hair, the color of straw, stuck out in odd clumps, a testament to their mother's defeat. Cindy, his mother, looked older than her years. The lines on her face, etched deeper with each drunken brawl, spoke of a life spent fight