He wraps his other hand around hers, so he's holding it between both of his. Steve looks off down the familiar street. "They want us to be scared," he says, determined to sound solid. "I think I know where it's coming from."

Steve doesn't lead the way, exactly. He sticks close to Olivia's side, shivering a little despite the fact that it isn't cold. He doesn't want to admit how much it's getting to him - the emptiness, block after block. A couple of times he has to stop to catch his breath. He tries to hide his difficulty, mask it with looking at shops or street signs. The music goes on and on, winding between the buildings, louder and softer in turns.

They reach gray apartments rammed between two nearly-identical buildings, clothes strung out on lines from fire escape to fire escape. Fluttering, flapping quietly.

It's so easy to give in to the farce of childhood. To forget he's twenty-seven and a veteran. His voice sounds even smaller in the silence. "This is where I lived."