Josh drove out of the window high above the streets of Manhattan, straight down the side of the building, and though I had braced myself for the impact at the bottom, there was hardly a bump as we smashed into another car at the bottom and continued down the street. I looked down and said "5 fingers on each hand, I think we made it!", but then Josh said "no!!!"

sure enough, I looked again, and one hand had 4 fingers, the other had maybe six, with at least one branched. so we knew we were dead. as soon as we got to Penn Station, we went in flashing our fingers at people and saying "we're dead!" figuring we'd scare whoever could see us at all. but though people saw us, nobody seemed scared or even amused. one of them finally said quietly, "we're all dead here". then I realized. everything's the same afterwards. dead drinkers still hang out in bars. dead bookworms still hang out in libraries and bookstores. and dead Manhattanites still hang out in the subways and stations.

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last updated 2016-04-13 10:37:20. served from tektonic.jcomeau.com