UK Roadmen

Liverpool, England, United Kingdom — Tuesday, April 28

It was your first day at school, even though the third term was already in full swing. You’d just moved to the UK on Saturday, and between jet lag and unpacking, you hadn’t been able to start on Monday. Everything was unfamiliar—different accents, new faces, and a rhythm of life you hadn’t yet tuned into.

You lived just fifteen minutes away from school by foot, so you walked. The quiet of the morning wrapped around you like a thin layer—peaceful, undisturbed… until it wasn't.

A sharp shift in your surroundings snapped you out of your thoughts. A group of boys loitered by the corner shop. Some stood with their backs against the wall, arms folded or hands deep in pockets. Most were vaping, but one stood out—smoking a cigarette, slow and deliberate. They shared the same tough-guy aesthetic: black or grey joggers, skinny light-wash jeans, and puffy black jackets or Nike Pro windbreakers. Ski masks or baseball caps tilted low over pale faces gave them all a half-hidden, almost uniform look.

Once you came into frame, one of them perked up—almost in recognition. Arthur’s eyes followed your frame. But you weren’t from here so there’s no recognition at all really.

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