They chased Lee.  
That’s what they did. 
He would strut up the street, yelling, mad-like... and they would chase him back home. 
Back to a home tucked in a corner. The one his parents had picked for him, to make things easier. 
He had wild eyebrows like erratic marker pen slashes drawn above his eyes and when he stomped up the street, he threw bright, unfinished Lego sets at them, which landed upon a hard tar-bubbled street. 
The Converse Kids smashed them to bits while they ran, jumped, and squealed after him, until Lee’s red front door snapped back into place, onto his plastic blue home.  
The one tucked in the corner. 
They returned to the rules of whiffle ball with hollow bat & ball, involving the tops of trees, the boundaries of curbs, mailboxes, and the height of telephone wires. 
The Lego pieces were picked up by morning by invisible parents, who, for some strange reason, never yelled at the Converse Kids to stop chasing, to stop running, to just...stop. 
Well, they’d bought the house for him, hadn’t they? Wasn’t that enough? 
Occasionally a lone Lego piece would appear during a rainstorm mixed with fallen leaves. 
Neon yellow balancing on a storm drain. 
  

This is part of my people series. There are two others. Gerald and Shelley.