Zed loaded a box of paint cans into her car, wondering how the night would unfold. After closing the rear door, she turned around to catch the sunset, fuchsia streams lingering in the sky, resisting the inevitable darkness. Crows cawed in the distance, their primal screeches strangely calming. The garage door opened, but Zed didn’t turn around. She knew it was her mom. When she approached people, her footsteps were always cautious, reluctant to interrupt, yet interrupting nonetheless.
“What are you doing tonight?” her mom asked, stepping into the driveway and peeking into the trunk of Zed’s MINI. “Paintballing again?”
“No,” Zed answered, turning away from the sunset to face her mother. “Tonight, I’m going on a street art tour.”
“In Atlanta? That explains the sketchbook in the back.”
“Y
