A barker in a boater hat waved with a narrow cane. A crowd was forming around him, including a number of children without parents. I was always horrified at how many adults, arriving at noon at an amusement park or fair, could actually hand their eight-year-old child a quarter or two, say “Now meet me back here at five o’clock,” and assume that the world would not go awry in the ensuing five hours, that nothing would fall, collapse, jump its tracks, go wild, or catch fire. My own parents did that with me, and they were caring and well-intentioned.

The barker accelerated the tempo of his pitch. “See this beautiful young woman, who through powers learned in ancient Tibet only requires the amount of air contained in a balloon this size—” He blew up a small pink balloon that had the words BURIED ALIVE printed on it. “Here you are, kid, you can keep that—she only requires that much air to remain alive for over a month. This is not magic, ladies and gents, these are skills that anyone can acquire, even you kids, if you dedicate yourself as this young woman has—”

“Don’t tell them that,” I said to the man. If he heard an aggressive ring to my voice, he heard right.

“What’s the problem, pal?”

I was at his side. The platform gave him a four-foot advantage over me, but I didn’t care. I had the three shots of Scotch on my side. “I said, Don’t tell them that stuff, they’re kids, they’ll believe you.”

He spoke in a low voice. “Listen, it’s a harmless little novelty, everybody knows—”

“It’s not harmless!”

“All part of the show, folks!” he announced, then hissed back at me, “Go find somebody else to bother, jughead, it’s been a slow day in a dead season and I’m trying to earn a living here. Now move along.” He raised his voice, “Skills that anyone can acquire—”

“I’m serious,” I said. “Stop it or else.”

He gave my shoulder a firm shove with the tip of his cane. “Buzz off.”

Men standing on platforms shouldn’t shove me with a cane, especially near the part of my arm where I was stabbed the night before, and especially if I’ve had a few drinks. I watched myself grab the end of the cane, pull it from his hand, hook its handle around his ankle, and yank him down off the platform.

The children screamed as he fell clumsily to the ground, but he got right back to his feet in an instant and came at me hard. I managed to poke him back with the cane as an excited crowd gathered, but he wasn’t going to walk away without paying me back.