Streetlights make tangerine marshmallows of the drifting clouds, everything’s unusual, everything’s not right. A rat skitters by and doffs his cap. I don’t think it odd, but do think a deerstalker would suit it better. Is this madness, or just city life? I no longer know. The concrete twists beneath my feet, ragged hedgerows spewing forth birds of litter. A girl with wheeled feet flies off in the opposite direction towed by an ugly dog in a Broncos jacket. It’s time to go home. But, I can’t remember which house is mine, they all look the same. Never mind, I’ll choose the one with the best curtains and go in. What’s the worst that could happen?