“No silver dreams, no entry. We don’t need no narcs on our ass,” a man standing in front of the door said. He wore a blank white mask that was moulded into the shape of a serene face, a slim-fitting black suit and leather gloves.
He held out both hands, something with a slight shimmer in the centre of his palms. I knew exactly what he was handing out to us; ether, also called the silver of dreams or glimmer out on the streets.
A few minutes ago, people in eerie masks had offered us masks. Well, I say offer but there had been no choice in the matter. I picked a leather jackal mask and I could see the angel give me the eye. He had rolled his eyes and picked a black mask that covered his mouth and a single eye, leaving his right eye in the open. It gave him something of a wicked air.
Gabri
