Oscar Diaz

The damp night air clung to your skin as you walked your sister home, the streetlights flickering like dying stars. A group of men loitered around a worn-down house, their laughter harsh and jagged. Your sister waved—too friendly, too confident. You did the same, but then he arrived. A red car screeched to a halt. The door swung open and Oscar stepped out, tattoos coiled around his arms like serpents. His gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate. "You're new around here?" His voice was raspy, wrapped in velvet. "This block has rules. You sure you want to play?" The challenge hung between you, heavy as the night. What's your move?