She nimbly swerved around each oncoming body, eyes wan, scarf trailing from the worn handbag. Loose boots flopped a half step ahead. Her ribbon body flowed into them. She beat the crowd to the median, pausing to drag on a cigarette stub and turning to blow invisible smoke to one side. The red light was for those constrained by conformity, and her will was her own. Without yielding her earned momentum she lunged into her next stride. Then it hit her.


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