"But that's just it, Grady," said Melba, forgetting his victimization
as thoughts of Bev Hat's deadness rushed back. "To know someone is
alive you have to see them right now."
Grady Help blinked. "I don't see a lot of people right now,
Melba," he said. "In fact, right now I see you. Only you, Melba." Melba
spun around, gazed down the empty street. Above the street, a large
black bag hanging from a wire snapped in the wind. Melba shuddered. The
wind blew harder. The wire was anchored at each end in a metal eyelet
driven between bricks in the facades of two opposite-facing buildings,
and Melba detected the low sound of the eyelets groaning. Farther down
the street, she noticed the flags that usually hung so limply from the
cantilevered gaffs alongside the second-story windows of the Dan Hotel
leaping about, bright and agitated. The wind was active, moving around,
having effects, but it wasn't a person, and Melba looked back at Grady
Help. He was right. She was the only one.
