P:”Where did you put it?”
R:”It?”
P:”The wristband you gave me.”
R:”It was a weapon.”
P:”I know.”
R:”…”
P:”When did you remove it?”
R:”Do you want it back?”
P:”No.”
R:”Then…”
P:”Why remove it?”
The streets are half-crowded.
That’s possible.
People walking, disheartened.
Many looking confused.
Just perambulating.
P:”You see that?”
R:”I’m right next to you.”
People itching their skin.
Insistently.
Trying to remove something that doesn’t belong to them.
P:”What will they do with these plants?”
R:”You’re awfully anxious about this.”
P:”Why did we get them back?”
R:”…”
P:”?”
R:”Walk faster.”
P:”Where?”
R:”Follow me.”
P:”We’re tracked?”
R:”That’s likely.”
P:”Why show them that we know they’re here?”
We swing from the street to an alleyway.
P:”We’re still on track?”
R:”You ask many questions.”
From the alley we watch the street.
Looking for our pursuers.
The alley’s darker.
On the street the light beams.
That’s why I couldn’t see it.
A fine dust, gleaming.
It slowly flows into the alley.
P:”Let’s move.”
R:”Where do we go?”
P:”I’ll follow you.”
R:”…”
We move off the alley.
We weren’t followed.
Except by that dust.