A Death

"The mayor wants shiny new structures, and these old hulks are in the way. In Chicago, that’s a simple equation. Bud fights the teardowns anyway, and as each effort fails, he photographs the doomed buildings, trying to capture their essence."

“Lucky”

“How many for this much, fam?” The black boy means wings, chicken wings. He pulls change from his trousers and puts it on the counter, lifts his cap, scratches under it. Farid looks at the money. “Four,” he guesses.