The late afternoon sun was hanging low in the sky, painting the basketball court in heavy, liquid strokes of gold.
Every bounce of the ball echoed against the weathered brick walls of the gymnasium like a heartbeat, rhythmic and insistent. Michael was loud, his laughter booming across the asphalt as he nearly tripped over his own feet trying to keep up, but Uriel… Uriel was something else entirely.
His movements were precise, almost mathematical, like every step and shot had been calculated in advance by a master architect. Watching him was like watching gravity bend to his will while the rest of us were stuck to the ground.
Selima elbowed me sharply in the ribs, her grin wicked and far too knowing.
“See that? Physics in motion, Mehanda. He probably knows the exact angle of every sho
