Aaron stepped forward, not even thinking until he felt a hand on his forearm. Christie shook her head, eyes holding his. He frowned why not, and she shook her head even harder. A surge of anger swelled in his chest. Why not? When he turned back Limo had seen him, his smile broader, eyes dilated, the whites seemingly larger. He winked at Aaron and let the man fall, unconscious. The watching people gasped, rushed to his side. The man’s girlfriend had long fainted, but no one noticed her. Limo spun on the spot, skating away with long graceful strides, the lights in his boots blinking. Aaron watched the glittering red, blue and white. His body grew light, and the spiral ascent opened in his head. The shopping centre faded, returned, faded, returned. Prickles of rage burned his eyes.

Christie saw his anger, he knew that. She grasped him by the shoulders and led him away from the people and the fallen man. He let her walk him outside, into cold night, towards the bus stop where she pushed him aboard the first 86 to pull up, guiding him to the upper deck. She sat him in the space behind the stairs by the window and leant against him so he could feel her warmth. Aaron saw dull lights, slow-walking people. He felt so tired. He wasn’t even sure what was wrong; all his energy had left him. Somewhere further along the main road she hauled him down the stairs and onto the pavement, crossing roads until they came to another stop. They climbed aboard the next bus. She sat him down, putting her arms around him to quiet his shivering. He had a vague sense of where he was. His body felt loose and floppy, no bones.

He blanked out completely after that. When awareness came back they were entering a house, hers he guessed. A featureless hallway with one framed picture; an aerial shot of a beach, an orange and red outlined word in a corner: Bantayan. He had a vague memory of two people; a snub-nosed man in a blue-checked lumberjack shirt, red-eyed, tiny brown marks dead centre on his lips, sucking on the tiniest roll-up Aaron had ever seen; and a plump woman, lively in a fading way, wearing a little blue apron and regarding him as if his presence was of little importance. There were names, a round of nods before lengthy silence, yet Aaron didn’t understand the words. He was tugged upstairs before he had time to ask if they were her parents. He might have even said it, but he didn’t remember Christie answering, or even sure whether he’d actually voiced the question. The next thing he knew a door was closing. He sat on a sagging single-bed mattress pretty much like his own.