Judah lays on the side of the sidewalk, his skateboard hitting him gently in the side as it rolled to him. Hardly did he fall skating anymore, but it happened occasionally. And, since he never wore any pads, it always sucked when he did. So, he lays on the ground, out of the way of most people, rubbing the back of his head, since he could already feel a welt forming. “Great,” he groans, pulling his fingers away to see some blood.
vance had been taking his usual strolls, the long walks once per day he attends, when he came across an unusual site. a boy, looking younger than his own age but close to it, was sprawled out on the sidewalk. his hand rested on the back of his head and a skateboard residing by him. a wipeout, a familiar situation vance has recognized with his own friends that skate. vance looked down at the boy before squatting to be closer. he tugged out one of his earbuds. “yooou alright?” he asked, looking him over briefly. when he saw blood on his fingers, vance’s stomach flipped. “nope, you are not okay. can you stand?”
