There’s a boy in black watching me. We’re all in black, but there’s something darker about him, something even more than a typical Goth. He sways off tempo, like he can’t quite find the beat, his red eyes ringed with kohl against a drug-pale face that would be impossible to imagine breaking into a smile. I try not to stare back. Try and fail. He’s captivating in the same way as a gun, in the same way as the stained knife that Andy found last month on patrol. The boy is wearing a crop top under a wool coat far too warm to dance in. His emaciated ribs jut out every time he moves. He comes over
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Some people have read this as an AIDS reference, but it wasn't intended that way. This actually happened to me at a club - I was invited to join a vampire coven in Brooklyn. Like Michael, I said no, LOL! For what it's worth, most of the odd things that happen at The Echo are from personal experience....
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