The gang's voices grew louder. Boots stomped on grimy tiles.
The guy in front of the stall continued talking. "See those shoes? Ain't no regular dude wears boots like that."
Cail became a bit self-conscious. He looked down and saw his rugged boots, stained with mud and dried blood.
Another voice sounded outside. "Probably some druggie. Kick it open."
The stall door rattled violently. Cail sighed as he zipped up his pants. Great, he had just come back and was already dealing with idiots. Of course, what should he expect? He was a misfortune magnet at this point.
Cail, dead inside from exhaustion, said, "If you kick this door one more time, I'll greet you holding a gun to your head."
The banging stopped. Cail sensed hesitation. After zipping up his new jacket, he pushed the door open. He was met with no resistance, but the moment his eyes landed on the group, he was almost blinded by the bright colors.
