“The gunshots became louder after Joey died. Isaac’s been hearing them on the southeast side for years, but before Joey was murdered they were nothing more than loud snaps in the night. Now they are real. Bullets that hit something. A car door. A window. A ball. A child playing with her Lincoln Logs in the living room. But most times they hit nothing. Nothing according to the news. All these guns and all these bullets—only occasionally someone shot or killed. Imagine this place if the shooters had aim.”
Book:The Concrete