December 18th

After the show we wander around downtown letting the night slip by and the streets quiet down.

We end up at the big Christmas tree in front of the gallery, shimmering blue: a single colour lights up the evergreen.

“What do you think?” I ask.

“Lazy.”

With only two homeless guys on the gallery steps in sight, I take my chance—I step over the short fence and disappear into the thickness of that tree.

“What are you doing?”

“Retrieving a beacon.” I say, climbing up branches.

“Why didn’t you say so?” In an instant she’s above me, her spade tale slinking around branches. She reaches the top, steals the bright blue star and slides down.

My dismay vanishes once she hands over the star and winks.

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