off key
Something feels off.
Dream thought to herself.
The Streets of little rock didn't have a curfew
They had cycles.
And tonight… the cycle felt wrong.
Dream stood on the cracked concrete porch of her mother’s house, the flickering light above her head buzzing like it was struggling to stay alive. The air was thick—humidity mixed with smoke drifting from somewhere down the block. Not the normal kind of smoke either. This was the kind that made people look twice before stepping outside.
John Barrow had a way of breathing different when something was coming.
And tonight, it was breathing heavy.
Dream pulled her hoodie tighter around her body, even though it wasn’t cold. It wasn’t comfort she was chasing—it was control. Something to steady her nerves. Something to keep her from feeling the way her gut had been twisting all day.
Her phone buzzed in her hand.
DJ
She stared at it.
Didn’t answer.
Buzz again.
DJ: “Stop calling me. Just listen.''
Her thumb hovered over the screen.
That wasn’t like him.
DJ always called. Always spoke loud. Always made sure she knew he was good, even when he wasn’t.
Dream stepped off the porch, barefoot against the warm concrete, eyes scanning the street.
The block was active—but too quiet at the same time.
Kids still outside.
Men still posted.
Women still sitting on porches watching everything and saying nothing.
But nobody was laughing.
Nobody was playing music.
Nobody was acting like it was a normal night.
That’s how you knew something was off in the streets.
When even the noise got careful.
A black truck rolled down the street slow.
Too slow.
No music.
No headlights flashing.
Just creeping.
Like it wasn’t trying to get somewhere…
like it was trying to be seen.
Dream’s chest tightened.
From across the street, somebody leaned forward off a car and muttered under their breath:
“...the streets talkin’ tonight.”
Dream didn’t like that.
The streets didn’t talk unless somebody was about to get buried.
Her phone buzzed again.
DJ: “I told you stop calling me. I’m handling it.”
“Handling what?” she whispered out loud, like he could hear her.
Before she could type—
POP.
A sound cracked through the air three blocks over.
Not loud enough to shake windows.
But loud enough to stop hearts.
Silence followed.
Then chaos hit like a wave.
Doors flew open.
People started running without asking questions.
Some ran inside.
Some ran toward it like they already knew what they’d find.
Dream didn’t move at first.
Because people like her didn’t react to noise.
They reacted to patterns.
And this pattern?
She had seen it before.
Her phone buzzed again.
But she didn’t look at it this time.
Because now she was running.
Not toward the sound…
but toward the truth she already felt forming in her chest.
Something in the Streets of Little Rock had just shifted.
And once the streets shifted…
they never shifted back.
