“He’s just tired too.” She rubbed Katie’s back, traced letters for her to guess until she fell asleep. Katie was much smaller than Tyler and her hair darker, but the pressure of her head on Josie’s lap, the way her mouth dropped open the moment she fell asleep, made her heart cramp.

She suddenly wanted a cigarette. She slid out from under Katie and snuck carefully out of the booth, through the kitchen, and into the alley behind the restaurant. The busboy had tied the trash bags tightly and piled them high in the Dumpster, but the sweet smell of rotten vegetables and cream sauces still saturated the air. She lit a cigarette she had bummed off a prep cook and inhaled. It felt familiar and comforting, and she inhaled and tried to imagine the smoke stroking her insides.

She leaned against the cold brick wall and looked up. Across the alley was another building, a converted granary with expensive loft space. She had once seen a young man hoist himself up the fire escape and climb to the fifth floor where he tapped on the apartment window for at least ten minutes. Someone had eventually come, but refused to let him in, and he yelled and pushed his forehead against the glass. Ultimately, he gave up and kicked his way down each landing.

Now she looked at the fire escape and traced his path down to the ground. At the bottom was a rusty ladder. It was tied to the first landing and one end of the rope was fastened tightly to the top rung while the other hung down a good four feet.

She dragged on her cigarette and looked down the alley. It was especially cold for January, and she could see steam rising from the manholes in big, billowy clouds. She exhaled the smoke and turned back to the fire escape. The rope dangled. It was blackened by soot and age, perfect for winding around wrists. You could suspend a girl like that, attach her firmly and spin her on her toes—first left, then right—so the leather of the whip caught each thigh with a fiery snap.

Josie closed her eyes and felt her body first warm, then melt, then seethe. She squeezed her thighs tightly together and inhaled, and when she did, her breath shot through her throat like a punch, pushing her head harshly against the brick. She felt the sting of concrete on her scalp, and she opened her eyes. Her heart raced. She dropped the cigarette and pressed her palms firmly against the wall.