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They leave Khalil’s body in the street like it’s an exhibit.
One-Fifteen sits on the sidewalk with his face buried in his hands. Other officers pat his shoulder and tell him it’ll be okay.
I’m lying in bed. Khalil is lying in the county morgue.
Did he realize that if he does become a hashtag, some people will only see him as a drug dealer?
The truth casts a shadow over the kitchen—people like us in situations like this become hashtags, but they rarely get justice.
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