I burst onto the street and hurry south, hunched inside the stolen red coat. The world is shadow, woven with streetlamp yellow and neon red; it’s an orchestra of laughter, firecrackers, and synth melodies from open doorways. I zigzag my way between clusters of people, their shared laughter hanging like bridges over my head. Pedestrians knock me in the shoulder, apologizing. I knock into others, no apologies. But I’m grateful for them. If my follower reappears, I’ll scream, I’ll fight, I’ll make a scene. People are safety.
The people are drinking, though, passing open containers from gloved hand to gloved hand. The people are in disguise: white and black skeleton face paint; plastic cat masks sculpted into round pink cheeks and cartoon smiles; rubber hoods molded to resemble the president,
