A grown man's job

(3 years old.)

Sunlight filtered through the trees like gold dust in the breeze. The woods were quiet—peaceful, even. Birds chirped lazily overhead, and the world felt slower than usual.

Amari sat on a moss-covered rock, picking bark from a stick.

Johnny sprawled out in the grass next to him, eyes half-closed, soaking up the warmth like a cat.

Maverick leaned against a tree stump nearby, cigarette between his fingers, smoke curling over his shoulder in lazy rings.

"You know that's gonna kill you, right?" Amari muttered, glancing over.

Maverick didn't even blink. Took another drag. Let the silence answer for him.

Johnny snorted. "You know he's not listening, right?"

Amari rolled his eyes. "Man's out here trying to hit thirty looking fifty."

That got a crooked smile from Johnny, but Maverick just kept smoking like time didn't exist.

Then Amari's body shifted.

Quiet. Focused.