Not enough to break bone.
Just enough to remind him who held the power here.

Raymond collapsed again, mud splashing across his sleeves and cheek.

His cane skittered several feet away.

The boys snickered.

One of them — the one who’d tripped him — crouched, voice thick with mock pity.
“Need help, grandpa?”

Raymond ignored him, turning his face so he could breathe. His hands clawed at the slippery earth, trying again — always trying again — to lift himself. He got one knee beneath him. His fingers dug into the mud, determined, shaking.

That was when it happened.

A voice cleaved through the park like a blade through rope.

“HEY!”