“Where do you live again?” I asked.

“Meyerland.”

“Outside the Loop?” I said.

“Not far outside. It gets free Wi-Fi.”

He was boring, but I didn’t mind, because his attention was interesting.

“We need another drink,” I said, and stood.

He went to the bar, more crowded now, and I moved closer to the television. A closed caption Law & Order gave way to the local news: a Hispanic girl with big eyes took turns looking cheerful and serious. I tried to read her lips but I could only read her eyes. They were empty and anxious despite the emotions moving across the rest of her face. The picture jumped to a River Oaks street, broad and landscaped, and a flash of Sally’s face. The Hispanic girl came on again and then another set of commercials. The boy installed a fresh drink in my hand and I sipped it and waited through cat food and sitcom ads until the news came on again. The screen went to Sally, standing in her backyard. Her face was made up, with tears carefully placed, flattering her features. She looked like Danielle. Almost young. A somber-faced handsome reporter was holding a microphone. Captions ran at the bottom of the screen: “gruesome slaying.”

I’d spent countless nights in that backyard, swimming in the pool, smoking weed on the lounge chairs. It was odd to see it on TV, with the volume muted. I watched, glad it had turned into a TV show. That meant I could turn it off.

“Eliza. Eliza.”

I’d forgotten I was Eliza. The boy had been trying to get my attention. His friend was there, too.

“Eliza, hey. We’re gonna go outside for a minute. Come on, come with us.”

I gulped my drink and set it on the bar. Outside we huddled between a Suburban and an Escalade. The size of the cars was screwing with my perspective. I felt like a fiberglass statue, realistic but hollow, smaller than life. I took one hit off the bowl and held it, and when I tried to light a cigarette I couldn’t even get it to my mouth.

“What is this shit?” I asked them. Both boys giggled.

“Good, right?” his friend said.

The event of him speaking packaged itself and retreated forever. I hadn’t heard him so much as just knew what he had said. It was like I just knew. Amazing.

“It’s California shit. The Mexi-schwag around here gives me a headache. I can’t smoke it anymore. Look at this—” I understood he wanted to show me something. “See the crystals, the way it reflects? Pure THC.”

“Oh,” I said. “You’re very proud.”

“Dude, don’t hold it like that! People might see.”

This must have been Peter speaking. I couldn’t see him but I could determine his rough location, from the lack of negative space. I felt clever for the way I was keeping track. It wasn’t easy trying to hear through the space separating us. I got the cigarette lit and immediately the parking lot pitched and lurched. I couldn’t hear the two boys anymore, I lost them. I couldn’t find the cars. I couldn’t find the TV anywhere, and this made me very, very sad.