“Good stuff. Got it in the city.”
Shouts ring out.
The boy shares his stash and takes a hit himself.
He sees fireworks and floats away.
Somewhere on the West Side, the teenage boy who sold the heroin gathers with his gang on the corner. He holds out a bag.
“Good stuff. Came in from Mexico.”
Shots ring out.
The boy sees fireworks and tries to run. Too late.
He clutches his stomach as he falls and floats away.