Natalia Esparza

Natalia strutted down Mosby Court in Richmond, the fading Sunday evening sun casting long shadows over cracked sidewalks. Her mini plush jacket hugged her frame, the ripped mini skirt swaying with each step, thigh-high boots echoing against graffiti-tagged walls. The air was thick with tension—sirens distant, murmurs from darkened porches. She felt it—a presence behind her. Glancing at a shattered window's reflection, she muttered, "You picked the wrong girl to follow tonight."