Larry is the one who brought me to this shithole, saying we’d get free meals and a warm bed. We’ve stuck around for each other, so when one is sleeping, the other takes guard so no one touches us. When there are no beds available, we sit beside each other, I lay my head on his shoulder, and we sleep like that.

“I’ve been searching all over for you.” He pants. “Where have you been?”

“Around.”

“Did you steal some beer again?”

“No!”

“Winter…” he pinches the bridge of his nose as if I'm an insolent child.

“Okay. Only one. I didn’t have any change.”

“We agreed to never steal.”

“Desperate times, Larry. Besides, you know I don’t like the sober me. She has issues.” Maybe that’s why I’ve been feeling off-balance all afternoon. I have a low alcohol tolerance, but even I need more than a single beer to get drunk.

“Winter…”

“Forget about me.” I throw a dismissive hand in the shelter’s general direction. “What happened here?”

He thins his lips before releasing them. “I ought to ask you that.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Why do you think the police and the media are here?”

“Because Richard called them over to demonize me?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then what?”

“Richard was found dead in his office this morning.”

I pause, a strange sensation gripping me by the throat and confiscating my air supply. When I speak, it’s in a strained whisper. “What?”

“The cleaning staff found him in a pool of his own blood and the police are suspecting you did it.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. I don’t know if Richard called them before he died or if the staff and the others witnessed that you were the last person who saw him alive.”

My fists clench on either side of me. “I didn’t kill him, Larry. I didn’t do it.”

His brows draw over his wrinkled eyes as he sighs. He has thick skin with some blotches, probably due to staying out in the sun for so many years. “I know.”

“Really?”

“Really, Winter. You’re a crazy little thing, but you’re no murderer.”

I smile a little at that. “Who are you calling crazy, old man?”

“I’m no old man, you little shit.”

“You act like one, Larry.”

He headlocks me, then swiftly pushes me away. Larry has always kept distance between us, as if he’s afraid to touch me, and I’m thankful for that. Not because his touch is bad, but because I dislike being touched. That’s why I prefer invisibility.

“Anyway, you need to leave before they find you.”

“No. I did nothing wrong, and if I hide, that means I’m admitting to a crime I didn’t commit.”

“So what do you plan, woman? Are you thinking of barging into the midst of those policemen? What are you going to say? Like, ‘umm, hey there, officers, I’m the one you think killed Richard, but I actually didn’t, so let’s just shake hands’?”

“I’ll simply tell them what happened.”

“No one will believe you, Winter. Your fingerprints are all over his office and you were the last one who saw him alive before you disappeared. You’re guilty in their eyes. And if you go in there, they’ll lock you up for twenty years. You won’t get a good lawyer either, because state-appointed ones are shit.”

His words penetrate my brain, slowly making sense, but I want to dismiss them as fast as possible. I want them to be untrue. Because I can’t accept that option.

“So what do you suggest I do, Larry? Run away?”

The older man snaps his fingers. “Exactly. Lie low for a while and then we’ll figure some way to get you out of this city.”

It’s the most logical thing to do under the circumstances. It is. But I’ve always been attached to this merciless city with super glue. Besides, it’s where I have memories with my baby girl, and if I leave, it’ll be like I’m abandoning a piece of me.

“But…Larry…”

He sighs, jamming both of his hands in his orange coat. “You don’t want to leave?”

I shake my head.

“But you might get locked up. You have to.”

“I know. Are you…coming with me?”

“Absolutely, woman. We ride together and die together.”

“That sounds like some motorcycle club’s slogan.”

“I stole it. Roll with it.” He peeks his head around the corner, his hazel eyes shining with concentration before he focuses on me. “Now, go. Don’t stay in open places and avoid cameras. I’ve got your back.”

I wrap my arms around him in a brief hug. “How will we meet again?”

“I have my homeless intel. I’ll find you. Just lay low.”

After I reluctantly release him, I carefully make my way through the back of the alley.

I glance behind me to cast one last glimpse at Larry, but he’s already gone.

Usually, when we’re not at a shelter, Larry and I spend the night in the subway station. The benches are our friends and the marginal silence is better than the loud city outside.

So that’s where I go first, but soon realize my mistake when I see the news about Richard’s death on the station’s TV.

Two middle-aged men, who appear to be football fans judging from their blue Giants hats, stop in front of me to watch the news. I shrink backward and blend in with a wall in case anyone here recognizes me.

“What a mess,” one of them says, lighting a cigarette, despite the no smoking signs.

“Maybe it’s a sign that he wasn’t meant to run for mayor,” the other replies, shrugging a shoulder.

“Wasn’t meant to? Man, have you even been living in this city?”

“Why? What?”

“Richard Green was the prime candidate for mayor.” Cigarette Man leans toward his friend and lowers his voice as if he’s sharing Central Intelligence Agency secrets. “There are rumors that he was backed by the mafia.”

“The mafia?” the other man whisper-yells.

“Keep your voice down, you idiot. You want to get us whacked?”