The air in the Marcy Projects was a thick, gritty stew, a permanent miasma composed of exhaust fumes from idling cars, the metallic tang of decay, and the ever-present, acrid scent of desperation. It clung to everything, to the cracked concrete sidewalks, to the faded graffiti that snaked its way up the sides of the monolithic brick buildings, and most of all, to the people. For Marcus, it was the only air he’d ever known, the suffocating embrace of the block that had molded him since birth. #Crime #Hood #UrbanFiction #HoodNovel #Adventure #Drama #Thriller
