Fat beats and they oom, thrum, so sick my ears might bleed. I’m flying, the bike wheels a blur as I scream down the hill, midnight-slick, no cars, no people, just a streetlight and a light and a light like a second rhythm I feel in my eyes.
I startle a fox as I skid to a halt. A mangy thing, all rust and hunger. He slips into the shadows as I chain the bike and sling a bag of brights over my shoulder, the perfect shades for that beautiful, bare brick.
I’m still deciding what to spray when I round the corner and… There’s someone there, pale and hunched like screwed up paper, sat on a bench like she’s waiting for a bus. I scowl but she looks up at me with a false-tooth smile and it’s so damned trusting that I stop, feel the corners of my mouth twist. I flash gold in return.
“You okay, lady?” I ask, loping over and ditching the bag next to my pure virgin wall she’s sat in front of.
“Isn’t it a beautiful night,” she says, voice like the cracks between paving slabs where flowers push up, broken and sweet.
“Someone coming for you?”
“Oh, I’m sure someone will. But you’re here now, at any rate. Wait with me?” Above that chunky smile her eyes flash liquid moonlight, more scared than the fox, and I know she’s going nowhere, not till dawn at least.
“You like art? Not going to snitch on me, are you?”
“Something happy,” she says, and shuffles to get comfy, wraps thin shoulders in my scuffed denim, and together we paint two worlds into one.
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