The walk east took me through roads I hadn't touched in over two years.
There was something surreal about it—seeing the sidewalks crack in the same places, the walls still bearing old graffiti under new coats of paint. Buildings had gone up. Others were gone. But memory was stubborn. It filled in the blanks. Even when the world tried to move on, some part of you still saw the scaffolding like it was yesterday.
I stopped at the edge of the construction lot.
The gate had been replaced—newer, taller, coated in a soft matte grey. There were scanners now, motion lights, and a printed sign with the words Authorized Entry Only – Site Under Development.
Figures.
I stepped forward.
"Hey! You can't be here!"
A voice rang out over the gravel.
I turned slightly.
