Weeford opened the door of his unit, tucked away in the Pink Peaks complex, greeting Will with the Tranquility salute and then a bro handshake. “Will, buddy! Great to see ya! Beginning to think you were too good for me now that you’re up the ranks!”
Will chuckled and playfully slapped him on the back. “You know it, bud!” He smiled, feeling the warmth of the camaraderie and long history with his schoolmate. He still felt honored to know him. Weeford’s skin was the color of a ripe fig, his hair black as Will’s Plauditorium uniform. His seven-foot height dwarfed anyone in the city. That’s why his nickname, “Wee,” was such a joke.
Samkhat individuals like Wee were especially valued, admired for their bravery in overcoming adversity and misfortune. Most of the Samkhat came from places where
