To experience the loss of a loved one must be torture and the rest. Not had that close person pass. My pops was expected so I am a virgin to the experience. Friday night  in the centre of a gang fight, weather just right, warm summer night. Swinging a baseball bat wildly but calm flexing the muscles on my arms. Ray letting loose proper blue even though the scrap was not footy related, more territory and defending a name. Seven blood filled nobody killed fierce fighting minutes before someone shouted “Filth”! and the shadow mass was gone.  Only the broken glass and discarded bats left a clue as to the commotion. I was out of breath, chest pounding threatening to explode as I ran behind Ray across the main road and onto the estate where we felt safe and stopped running. The situations you get in when you are young. Could have turned out so so different but didn’t.

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