of Christianity before. I'd like to draw people as they really are." Her hands moved in the air, making drawing motions, and the clouds lifted from her sky-blue eyes.
* * *
At the door to the hotel, she handed him back his newspaper. "My family . . .. We could get in trouble if they found this in our house."
Under the watchful eyes of the doorman, he bent closer to her and spoke in her ear, as if whispering sweet nothings, "I thought it was better now. I thought the BSS were"
But she shook her head. "Sometimes it is the bear's dying moments that are most dangerous," she said. She grinned brightly up at him.
She still smelled of rancid sweat, of unwashed flesh constricted within artificial clothes. But her eyes reminded him of the sky over his hometown, and when she smiled it was easy to forget how crooked her teeth were.
"Listen," she said. "Thanks for the newspaper."
She stepped away from him, turned to go.
"Wait," he called. "Wait. Tomorrow. For dinner. Same time."
Emma turned around, looking surprised, then grinned and nodded once.
Walking down the steps of the hotel, she broke into a little run. She wore ballerina shoes that appeared to be made of cardboard and falling apart.
Not looking either way, she crossed the street chances of any traffic were minimal and the all-plastic Morris suffered a greater chance of injury than any pedestrian they might strike.
On the other side, Emma turned again, and waved at him.
Lin watched her walk away, along the corrosion and pollution stained opposing wall. At one point the wall had been painted