“Ayy, I’m walkin’ over here… actually, y’know what, you go first,” I said, for possibly the first time in my thirty-three years on this earth.

The words felt strange coming out of my mouth. Chewy-like, like biting into a pizza slice that had been kept on the heater too long. And something was clearly missing, like when you go out West and buy pizza and there’s no flavor in it.

The car rolled through the intersection in front of me, the driver making eye contact with me as they turned, but not in a “fuck you” kinda way, more like a “what’s your angle? What do you get out of this?” kinda way, like I was some kinda pervert. Kinda felt like one.

As I walked through it, I realized the whole city kinda had this pervert feel. Like normally you walk through New York, and unless you’re a tourist you go, you have a place you are going and you go there. You ignore everyone else around you with defined intent, like you’re in an elevator and somebody farted and there’s only two of you.

But here like, the free hugs guy in times square didn’t pick a single person’s pocket while I walked past. It was fucked, the one guy had a watch alone that was worth more than everything I owned, but like, when they hugged, free hugs guy smiled… and it was real. It was bizarre. And I waved another car past in front of me while I watched it, stupified.

I had to know who was running it. Someone was in on something big, they fucked up everyone in the city, and they were about to make a shit ton of money, and they fucked up me while they were at it. And I had to know who it was.

“So they’re bringing back slavery chattel-style. Like, not just prisons, but full on selling and owning people without having to pretend they did something fucked up first,” said Angela when I got home.

“Fuckin what?” I said.

“Yeah, it’s back. President already signed the bill, midnight session from Congress and all.”

I paused to take it in, but it didn’t take. “Fuckin what?” I said again, not really feeling particularly angry, but at a logical level definitely feeling this was fuckin wrong, y’know.

“Yeah. Jason called. He’s in an uproar, f-this, f-that, he’s ready to start shit, wants to meet us at the normal place with Em and them. But like, I dunno…” she said, just kinda flat.

“Yeah,” I said.

“I just kinda wanna go to sleep,” she said, rustling up against me, warm and comfy.

I sat there for a moment, and thought Jason was right, I should really get up and make clear this sort of thing was not okay. Then Angela shifted on my arm, getting a little comfier, and I felt the draw of sleep, intoxicating. Something was wrong, I thought. Is wrong.

But it was just a thought. I faded.