Juice Wrld’s Hood was up, his hands in his pockets, eyes forward. He’s not looking for anything. Just walking. A slow, easy pace. No rush. No reason. Just him, moving through the space like background noise. He glances at a store. Keeps walking. Passes a kiosk. Keeps walking. Someone walks by. He doesn’t look. Keeps walking. I wonder if there’s anything to buy to be honest..
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