Paper bags with peanut butter sandwiches. A waitress with soft hands. She hugged me in a sea of concrete.
I looked at the title, trying to see what he was reading. Something called The Panther and The Lash.
Note: Hold fast to dreams/For when dreams go/Life is a barren field/Frozen with snow. -Langston Hughes
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun?”
“Don’t go into your head,” Marcus chided. “Look, when you’re older…you may have to do the same for someone else. You’ll have to see if you’re a coward or a man. You’ll get your moment.”