Chapter 1
The papers hit the sidewalk like startled birds, white wings flapping in every direction. Buddy whooped, scooping one up, holding it above his head like a prize.
“King of Street Order!” he declared, bowing toward the stranger crawling on hands and knees, desperate to gather the documents before the wind carried them farther.
The man’s glasses flashed as he snatched the page from Buddy’s hand. His pen clicked in his fist, a nervous metronome. “Tardiness,” he hissed. “Insolence. The block remembers.”
He vanished around the corner, papers clutched to his chest. His footsteps ticked against the pavement, each one fading slower than it should, echoing after silence should’ve swallowed them.
Buddy grinned at me. “Cool guy.”
The pigeons didn’t think so. They froze mid-peck, shadows stretched thin across the concrete like they’d been ironed into place. My skin prickled. The block hummed beneath us, faint but insistent, like an old refrigerator no one noticed until it spoke.
“Not cool,” I said. “That was a warning.”
Buddy tilted his head. “From who?”
The lamppost leaned slightly closer, just enough to catch my eye. A seam in the asphalt cracked wider at my feet, as if the street was sighing. The air smelled faintly of burnt sugar, sweet enough to choke.
“From the street,” I whispered.
Buddy laughed, but the sound bounced wrong—warped, like someone else was laughing back. His grin faltered.
The block hummed again, stronger now, vibrating through my shoes, through my ribs, shaking loose something unsteady in my chest. I couldn’t tell if it wanted me to run or kneel.
Buddy kicked at the crack, chuckling again, softer this time. “It’s just a road, man.”
But the road shifted, only a hair, enough to tilt the shadow of the leaning lamppost so it touched my foot. Cold. Heavy. Like a hand.
I jerked back. The hum ceased. The pigeons resumed pecking, as though nothing had happened.
Buddy slapped my shoulder. “See? Nothing.”
I wanted to believe him. But the block had leaned in. The block had touched me. And I knew with sudden certainty: it would remember my reaction.
The corner where the man had vanished was empty, but his words still ticked in my head.
The block remembers.
And it had just added me to the list.
