Evan bought a map of the city.
He had never considered the city from a bat’s perspective, from the air.
He looked at the sinuous thoroughfares following the river’s curve, straight streets jutting out like bones from a herring’s spine.
The parks were shown as patches of green, the sloping letters naming each.
In the night, they would be black.
Evan closed his eyes and lay on the floor, the map spread beneath him, arms wide.
He was a bat, soaring over the city, random in his flight.
He would need something for the gasoline, perhaps a white milk jug.