I was walking the kids home from school around noon last Friday. The sun was shining, it was a beautiful day. Waffle was having a piggy back and The Boy was zooming around, minding his business on his scooter.
We were one block away from our street when I started seeing a lot of blue...and not the good kind. Freakin' gangs. There were roughly fifteen young guys standing in the front yard of a derelict house. The same house where shots were fired a few weeks ago. I've seen people hanging around that house before but it's hard to imagine that anyone actually lives there. Maybe no one does. Maybe it's a convenience store of sorts.
I tried not to lock eyes with anyone. A whole other group of the blue guys were walking up the sidewalk to the home. A million scenarios came rushing through my mind, a normal occurrence when your arm hair stands on end and your spidey goes off. After the kids and I passed, a truck came roaring down the street with a few more sitting in the back, hooting and hollering.
I picked-up the pace.
Ugh, East District.