CONCRETE REALISTIES

THE BREAKING POINT

Leon sat on the edge of his bed, his fingers gripping his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white. Darnell’s message stared back at him.

"Got another drop. You down?"

He exhaled slowly. The $600 from the last job was still sitting in his nightstand drawer, untouched. It wasn’t that he didn’t need the money—God knew he did. But every time he thought about taking that next step, Kia’s voice echoed in his head.

"You keep goin’ the way you goin’, you gonna end up either locked up or worse."

Leon stood, pacing the small apartment. His walls were bare except for a few old posters from his teenage years—hip-hop legends, a faded Knicks banner. He had dreamed of something more once. Music. A real career. A way out.

But dreams didn’t pay rent.

His phone buzzed again.

Darnell: "Yo?? You tryna eat or not?"

Leon clenched his jaw. This was it. The moment that would decide everything.

His mother needed better care. Kia was burning herself out trying to handle everything alone. His bodega job barely covered the rent.

What was he supposed to do?

He closed his eyes. His mind drifted back to when he was 16, standing outside that same corner store he worked at now. Darnell had been next to him then, too. Only back then, they weren’t just talking about selling—they were stealing.

"One time, man," Darnell had whispered. "Just grab it and walk out."

Leon had hesitated then, too. But hunger, pride, and desperation made the decision for him.

Now, nearly a decade later, he was back in the same position.

Another text popped up.

Kia: "Ma’s not doing good. She’s asking for you."

That was all he needed to see.

He shoved his phone in his pocket, grabbed his jacket, and walked out the door.

---

A Mother’s Words

The moment Leon stepped into his mother’s apartment, he felt the heaviness in the air. The TV in the living room was playing some old sitcom, but the volume was low. Kia was sitting at the kitchen table, rubbing her temples.

She looked up when Leon walked in. "Took you long enough."

Leon ignored the bite in her words. "Where is she?"

Kia nodded toward the bedroom. "She been askin’ for you."

Leon felt his chest tighten as he walked down the hallway. His mother was sitting up in bed, her thin frame barely filling out the old nightgown she always wore. Her eyes flickered open as he stepped inside.

"Leon," she breathed, a weak smile forming on her lips.

He forced a smile, sitting on the chair beside her bed. "Hey, Ma."

She reached for his hand, her fingers cold. "You okay, baby?"

Leon swallowed. He should be asking her that.

"I’m good," he lied.

She studied him for a long moment, her tired eyes seeing through every word he didn’t say. "You look like you got a lot on your mind."

Leon exhaled. "Just… tryin’ to figure some things out."

Gloria squeezed his hand. "Don’t let this city take you under, Leon."

He frowned. "What you mean?"

She coughed, her voice raspy when she spoke again. "I seen too many young men get lost out here. Thought they had no choice but to do what the streets told 'em to do."

Leon looked away.

His mother sighed. "I know you feel like you gotta carry everything, baby. But you ain’t gotta carry it alone."

Leon stayed quiet.

Then, after a long moment, he said softly, "I just want to take care of you. Of Kia."

Gloria smiled weakly. "The best way you take care of us is by takin’ care of yourself."

Leon wanted to believe that. But money was still money.

And right now, he didn’t have enough of it.

---

A Test of Loyalty

Later that night, Leon found himself standing outside Darnell’s apartment. The lights in the window flickered from the TV inside. He could hear laughter—Darnell and a couple of his boys were inside, probably drinking, counting money.

Leon hesitated.

His mother’s words were still fresh in his head.

But so was the sound of Kia’s exhausted voice.

Before he could decide, the door swung open.

Darnell grinned when he saw him. "Bout time. Thought you flaked."

Leon stepped inside. The air smelled like weed and cheap cologne. A few guys he barely recognized were lounging on the couch, rolling blunts, talking about the latest beefs in the city.

Darnell walked over to the kitchen counter, grabbed a duffel bag, and tossed it at Leon.

"Easy run," Darnell said. "Meet up with my guy near St. Nicholas Park. He’ll give you the money. You pass him the bag. That’s it."

Leon stared at the bag.

"How much?" he asked.

Darnell smirked. "Three racks."

Leon’s heart pounded. Three thousand dollars for one drop.

It was too good to be true.

And that’s when he realized—it probably was.

Leon took a step back, his stomach twisting.

"You ain't tellin' me something, D," he said, his voice low.

Darnell’s smirk faded. "C’mon, bro. You overthinkin’ this. It’s just business."

Leon exhaled sharply. He could feel the room closing in on him.

"You runnin’ more than just weed now, ain’t you?"

Darnell's eyes darkened.

Leon took another step back. "I ain’t doin’ this, man."

Darnell’s jaw tightened. "You already in, Leon."

"Nah," Leon shook his head. "I ain’t."

The tension in the room thickened. The other guys stopped talking, sensing the shift.

Darnell sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "You really walkin’ away from three stacks?"

Leon clenched his fists. "Yeah."

Darnell scoffed. "You think this city gives a damn if you play by the rules? You think they gonna reward you for bein’ some honest, broke-ass man?"

Leon swallowed hard. "I think my mother would rather have me broke than locked up."

Silence.

Darnell’s eyes flickered with something—maybe respect, maybe disappointment.

Then, finally, he nodded. "Aight."

Leon turned to leave, his heart still racing.

As he stepped out into the cold night, he knew this wasn’t over.

Darnell wasn’t the type to just let things go.

And walking away from the streets was never that simple.