When we came out of the club, we were fizzing and liquid and leaping tall buildings. There were bodies on the ground and he said Look, I’m Evil Knieveland he took a run up and cleared them all. I thought they were sleeping, but some of them weren’t and I laughed, embarrassed by their dull, fish eyes. Our ears were still playing tricks and our shouts bounced down the shopping canyons, so I pretended I couldn’t hear them when they tried to speak. I sang the chorus of the last tune, over and over, louder and louder. The council truck came down and men in high viz with long brushes chased at my ankles. Sorry love. Mind how you go. I saw them roll one up like a carpet and sling it into the compactor. I ran up the wall and did a back flip, walked casually away, throbbing. He caught me in a doorway and we kissed until I thought I might be sick in his mouth. The beacon strobed us orange as the truck passed. I saw an arm, hanging out.
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