Up ahead, a shout goes up and the crowd erupts. Someone steps on my foot. I try to push away, when something flashes across my face and the world explodes. I don’t remember what happens next, until I find myself on the ground.

“Blackbird Mavrias,” says a familiar voice. “Such a surprise.”

I’m dizzy, and my nose hurts like hell.

I feel hands assist me to my feet, and I imagine that it’s Eugene and the Other Demons trying to help for a change.

But it’s not.

It takes a moment for me to focus. “Oz?”

“Your nose is bleeding,” says Oz. “But it is not serious.”

“What happened?”

“Some pushing,” says Oz. “Some shoving. A large man and his elbow. Such a crowd is not gentle.”

I can feel something warm run down the side of my face.

“You will have to soak the shirt in cold water.” Oz hands me a handkerchief. “Come,” he says, “we will sit down so you can recover.”

Oz helps me through the crowd and into a building We go up an escalator and into a second-floor coffee shop.

“Oliver’s,” says Oz. “Good coffee. A pastry. And we can watch from a safe distance.”

We get a table at a large window that looks out over the square.

“Here,” says Oz. “Pinch the sides of your nose with your fingers. It will stop the bleeding.”

The mass of people on the street below moves back and forth like waves on water.

“So good to see you again.”

“I thought you were going to Amsterdam.”

“I am.” Oz gestures to the rally. “But I am delayed. Did you bring your camera? Are you writing a story about Czech intolerance? Did you come to help, or do you just want to watch?”

My head hurts as much as my nose. I take my fingers away and hope that the bleeding has stopped. Oz orders coffee for the both of us, along with a slice of chocolate cake.

“We will share the cake,” he says. “Too much sugar can be unpleasant.”

I nod. My nose seems to be holding its own.

Oz looks out the window. “Here you can see the whole of history. Pro and con. Left and right. Conservative and liberal. Love and hate. Do you see the dividing line? The partition between the two camps?”

“The median?”

“On one side of the square are those who do not want immigrants to come into the Czech Republic.” Oz takes a breath. “On the other side are those who wish to welcome people less fortunate than themselves. On one side, apprehension and anxiety. On the other, hospitality and welcome.”

The coffee is hot, but I can’t really taste it.

“Sadly, it is never this simple.”

Same with the cake.