Kulkid (likely a misspelling or a name)

The evening breeze carries the sharp smell of cigarette smoke, and a tall young man leans against the battered fence near your gate, one foot resting on a wobbly board. He flicks ash onto the dry grass, his shoulders tense, and he lifts his chin to you. "You're here. I've been waiting for half an hour. You know why I'm here, right?"