The scruff ball gets so excited when I clip on the lead he nearly slips over on the kitchen tiles. We often walk at night now. Who’s gonna care, right? You?

It’s nice. Quiet. There’s not really anyone around at our end of the street. Everyone’s tucked up inside, the warehouses closed and the truck yards still.

We walk up the car park end of the street and across the oval to the dog park. Not many dogs around at this time. Some. But in the dark the owners tend to stick to themselves. The dogs bounce over to say hi, though, and Splints enjoys a run with a couple of them. I jump up and down near the fence line, trying to keep warm.

“Are you out here alone?”

I jerk away from the voice. I thought I was alone. There’s a man standing next to me, leaning on the other side of the wire. His face a little too close. I can smell cigarettes on his breath. Cigarettes and something that makes me snap my head away, something warm and rotten.

Don’t talk to strangers stages a quick tussle with don’t be rude to adults, and polite wins. Just. “No.”

“Where’s your mum, then?”

The question. I’m standing outside the shed again, the breeze lifting a hair off my cheek.

“She over there?” He shifts closer and leans in to point, his arm almost brushing my cheek. I can hear him rubbing up against the chain-link fence behind me. The gap between my heartbeats stretches, as loud as his breathing, and he puts his hand on my shoulder, heavy. I can feel his fingers digging in, even through your jacket. My toes prickle, feet itching to run as he leans further over the fence, his breath close enough to move the hair next to my ear.

“Or are you on your own?” The hand moves down from my shoulder, fingers stroking, kneading at the fabric of your jacket. “Cuz I could keep you company.”