Zavion checked the sky. It was a small consolation that there was no rain coming down.
He walked to the corner.
Tulane Avenue and North Broad Street.
He was in Mid-City. Papa had painted a mural at Krescent City Kids day care, which was just around the corner on South Dorgenois Street.
Zavion was hungry. He unzipped his backpack and pulled out his loaf of bread. He ripped off a piece. It tasted like honey.
As he ate, he oriented himself. Gentilly was northeast. Home. Treme was closer. Northeast too. The convention center was southeast. Tulane Avenue would take him close to it.
It was strange. He knew every street and neighborhood like the back of his hand. He knew where he was. But at the same time, everything was different. Upside down. Like that purple car.
Zavion’s stomach felt weighed down with the bread he had made. He liked that feeling. Grounded. He needed it because a part of him felt like he was still hurtling through space.
He swallowed his fear with his last bite of bread and took a step into the intersection. He crossed North Broad Street and began to walk down Tulane Avenue. He put his hand in his pocket and closed his fingers around the marble. He imagined its roundness. He suddenly had a thought. The marble had no upside or downside. It was facing the right direction no matter which way it landed. Its feet were on the ground all the time.
Zavion liked this thought. He held on to it and on to the marble as his feet continued down the street.