Cars honk at each other. He looks to the road while sprinkling water on the pots. Few drops land on his bare feet. The water feels cool.
He wipes his face and runs a wet hand through his tangled hair, more white from dust than the black he was born with.
Bikes and autos honk and beep, trying to wiggle out of the crowd.
His friends hop on the pavement across the street. Work done, maybe he can join them.
Mother calls out to him from the doorway. He keeps the mug down and runs off…heels kicking high.