EZRA.

Rain was sure to come, it was evident in the way the gray clouds took form. Houston was no stranger to water, in fact, it sky poured more regularly than the sun shined. The sounds of ‘FUTURE BABY MAMA’ by PRINCE came to a immediate halt when EZRA opened the door to her storm gray 2020 G-CLASS. Stepping out of the car, EZRA took a sharp breath. The thick, sticky, humid air of her hood was refreshing to her. She could smell the food from the local neighborhood restaurants cooking and the stench of marijuana, kids playing outside was the soundtrack to the day. Her stomach instantly reacted to the undeniable smell of greasy foods being prepared at BENNY’S diner next door. She made a mental note to stop by for lunch after handling her business.

Although people who were foreign to the area would certainly be on edge, she was more the comfortable in the environment. A pang of guilt interrupted her nostalgia. EZRA felt extreme penitence for making it out the ward at times, her therapist would call it ‘Survivor’s Guilt.’ Whatever it was, it was a bitch. “Hey, Southside!” She greeted as she walked over to the older male, what everybody would call a ‘Hood Legend’. “Is that li’l Ezail?” He replied causing her to kiss her teeth as he referenced her father. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s me.” She confirmed, before she shook her head and handed the male a hundred dollar bill. “Man, South, don’t spend all this shit at that damn slot machine in the corna’ store. Because you know you not gon’ win, Ahmed ain’t right.” She warned the old head, raising one of her eyebrows as to non-verbally hone her statement. “You act like like ya’ damn daddy, but you a pretty li’l thang, jus’ like ya’ mama.” Craning her head back, she released a loud cackle into the sky at the compliment, waving him off. “I’ma tell my daddy you was out’hea tryna’ mack on me.” She joked with a wink before she made her way down the sidewalk to her actual destination.

As she walked into the legendary record store turned clothing and merch establishment, the sound of the JUNE 27TH FREESTYLE was flowing through the speakers. It had become a hub for hip-hop loving tourist and natives alike to visit just about everyday of the week. The door was revolving for people who wanted to pick up vintage mixtapes, or purchase t-shirts from the early days of the ‘Screwed Up Click’. The interior hadn’t been changed since the early 2000s, however somehow it was still up to date and urban. Being from the neighborhood, EZRA knew everybody who worked in the store as it was one of the places to hangout when she was a child and teenager. “What’s up, y’all?” She greeted as she walked over to the counter and dapped up the two employees that she had been familiar with since childhood.