‘You see, it’s hard to explain…one minute its green, the next its white.’
     Rather apathetically, Ichi nodded, not knowing what had been said, but systematically acknowledging there was indeed speech. He wasn’t always this way, disinterested that is, but today his mind chugged slowly, occupied by his incessant hunger. Listening to Kalman, if he were to listen, would have been a secondary task, over-shadowed by the muffling of the constant yearning of his stomach.
     ‘Its as though…to disappear…a while…’
     Fragments of sentences, which his mind was too lazy to fuse into sense. He made sure his eyes continued to scan the sandy road before his feet, so that they would not glaze over, the first beacon of approaching sleep. Kalman, unaware of Ichi’s disinterest, continued to jabber on, and the two boys rounded another anonymous corner, on another anonymous street.
     They came to a junction, but did not hesitate to ponder their surroundings, or their destination. Neither really mattered. They walked like this for whole days often, looking for something to do, something to eat. Another anonymous street, with peering tower blocks, rusted cars, sepia walls and roads which assimilated into each other, an angular desert which seemed to ascend into the sky.
     The heat seemed to wobble as it rose in the distance, and both boys noted that today was that little bit hotter than the day before. Ichi walked slowly, pressed down by the heavy sun. Each time he walked through the shadow of a rusted car he would embrace its cool solice, before walking right back into the stare of the sun again. When the boys walked past an old Volkswagen bus, dishevelled and meek in its appearance, the length of its cold shadow seemed to wake him from his robotic state. Jellyfish, he realised, Kalman was talking about jellyfish.
     Ichi had seen one once, a long time ago. He had visited the ocean with his parents, and came so close to being stung by one that it 'shocked' him still. He took the liberty of excusing his own pun. He always found the expression ‘to visit the ocean’ odd, as though this large body of water was an estranged grandparent who the family would call to. He would never visit the ocean with his parents again though. The ocean was still there, but the other ingredient for the visit wasn’t. He found this to be his common ground with Kalman, and while they did not share many interests, so to speak, they had become best friends because of their common lack of a ‘foundation’, as the care-worker often put it.
     Ichi now seemed his usual self, and the two laughed and wrestled playfully, as they rounded more nameless corners and crossed more murky streets. They pushed one another, playfully, but Kalman, the larger of the two, seemed to push a little too hard.
    

    Ichi landed on his knees, the hot sand of the roadside grazing the palms of his hands, and dusting his begrimed pants. His calloused hands did not bleed though, and he smiled forgivingly. Both boys laughed, but then Ichi stopped abruptly. Kalman, unaware, continued to snigger, while Ichi looked at something on the ground, covered in a film of sand. He looked, but did not believe. He reached down, and grasped it and drew it to where he could look at it more closely. After examining it, he believed, well at least his eyes did. Kalman now noticed Ichi’s preoccupation with something within his grasp. He looked at his bedazzled friend inquisitively, and tapped his shoulder to get attention. To his surprise, his gaiety, Ichi divulged from his clenched fist something green, something wonderful, a five dollar bill.
     

     Kalman laughed, heartily. The two boys were exuberant, and they leapt and smiled in the pulsating heat. ‘What will we get with it?’ Kalman enquired, still rocking with the electricity of the moment. Ichi continued to smile unresponsively. His sharp grin cut through the hard light of the day. ‘Hey, what will we do with it?’ This time the words settled, and like the hot sand, they chaffed Ichi.
     ‘We? Well, to be fair, I found it. I’m gonna get chicken. Yeah, I’m in the mood for chicken.’ He pulled the corners of the creased bill apart, being careful not to tear it. He stood bedazzled with the soft ambrosia of wasteful tourists nestled between his grubby, mortal digits.
     ‘Come on, let me at least see it!’ Kalman reached for this one green oasis within the beige poverty of the city, and as he did, the boy’s fist snapped shut, like a blunted bear-trap. He shoved, playfully of course, and plied at the wired hand. Ichi plucked his fist away, and began to run from his friend, ensuring a smile was fastened upon his face. Kalman quickly caught him, and tackled him to the ground. The façade of the amicable nature of the skirmish assimilated into desire, frenzy, greed.
     ‘Share you selfish bastard!’ He bellowed, as his pointed hand darted for the bill. Ichi’s hand flopped frantically like a fish, squirming as the stork’s beak closed in. Kalman mounted Ichi, who was not submissive, but was helpless. He shook and strained his limbs, and his reddened face rocked back and forth in despair. Beneath the weight of Kalman he managed to release a hand, forcing an exhausted fist into the cheek of the person who knew him better than anyone else in the world.
     Kalman ventured through the cyclic emotions which this defensive gesture ignited: shock, pain and then anger. It was on his third emotion that he acted. He hit Ichi aggressively, but after his second strike his anger fizzled into regret. He fell off his friend tiredly, and sat with his back to him. He stood up, dusting the clinging sand from his clothes. Then he turned around expecting a clenched fist, or an outstretched hand. But it was not anger in his friend’s eyes, or even sorrow. Just indifference, cold, dead indifference.
     

     A woman later informed the not overly-inquisitive police she had looked out from her sixth story apartment, the glare of the window forcing her eyes to squint. She saw the boy desperately shaking his friend, who lay outstretched and limp. From a distance she saw him touch the inanimate boy’s neck, checking for a pulse. She then saw him run despairingly from the crime-scene, not forgetting a small green object which he clung on to protectively.