He holds a two-by-four, part of the construction waste on the sidewalk and street, bracing the piece of wood like a bat. I can’t see his face. It’s shadowed by the blur of bodies. But I do see him swing. Just as she turns her head to the side, the board smacks hard into her cheek. Her body thuds to the cement with the force—limp and motionless. I fucking lose it.
