HARDNOCK LIFE - by Success Uwakwe

Chapter 5 – First Drop Micah stood at the corner of 119th and Langston, hoodie up, hands deep in his jacket. The cold bit through the seams, but he didn’t flinch. The city didn’t care if you were cold. It didn’t care about your dead parents, or if your lights worked, or if you were sixteen and already walking with ghosts in your eyes. The brown duffle bag Dre gave him this morning felt heavier than it should. Not in weight—but in pressure. It pulled at his shoulder like a warning. *One drop. One pick-up.* He repeated it in his head like a prayer. The spot was a run-down barbershop, shuttered and graffitied, long dead to the neighborhood but alive to certain people. Micah knocked once, waited, then twice more. The door creaked open. A man with gold teeth and sleepy eyes nodded him in without a word. Inside, the shop smelled like cigarettes, oil, and bad decisions. Two men sat playing dominoes on a chairless table, while a third cleaned something metallic behind the counter—Micah didn’t look too close. “You Dre’s boy?” one of them asked. Micah didn’t answer. He set the duffle bag down on the counter, zipped it open just enough for them to peek inside. The man with sleepy eyes whistled. “You walking around with that kind of weight on the bus? You bold, little man.” Micah shrugged. “Ain’t like anyone stopping to check.” They laughed, but there was no humor in it. Just the sharp, edged kind of amusement that made your gut twist. A different bag—black, smaller—was pushed across the counter toward him. “Take that to 54th and Monroe. Back alley behind the liquor store. You’ll see a green dumpster. Wait there. Somebody’ll come.” “That’s it?” “That’s it.” Micah grabbed the bag and turned to leave, but one of them called out, “Hey—what’s your name, kid?” Micah paused in the doorway. “I ain’t got one that matters.” Then he was gone. --- The alley behind the liquor store stank of rot and spilled beer. A rat scurried past his foot. Micah paced, bag in hand, eyes scanning every shadow. Fifteen minutes passed. Then twenty. Finally, a black car rolled up slow. Windows tinted. The door opened, and a woman in a red coat stepped out, heels clicking like gunshots. “You Micah?” His stomach turned. He hadn’t told them his name. She took the bag. Didn’t smile. Didn’t nod. Just got back in and drove off. Micah stood there, the silence crushing him. Back at the apartment, he found an envelope slipped under the door. Inside—\$300 cash. And a note, in careful block letters: **“You did good. More coming.”** Micah leaned against the door, heart thudding. He was in. And he didn’t know if he could get out.

Other insights from Success Uwakwe

Referral Earning

Points-to-Coupons