You ask him if you can listen to anything to wait out the ten minutes.
He shakes his head.
You can feel the anguish bubbling inside you. If you could move, you would be crying and screaming right now.
After an agonizingly boring 10 minutes, time resumes at its normal pace and you remove the crystal.
Jamal, still excitedly looting, runs up to you holding a photograph he’s taken from the homeowner’s wallet.
DAAAYYYUMMM THIS NIGGA WIFE A FIIINE AAH SHYT. I WONDER IF SHE LIKE BLACK BOYS?
He holds up a photograph of what is presumably the homeowner’s wife standing in a grassy field. There’s a phone number and address written in the corner with marker.
Uh, yeah, probably!
Um.. Jamal, are your ghetto friends going to be here soon?
shiet yeah coupla minutes
