These Dreams of You

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While the front desk called up to the room, Zan waited in the lobby, a dozen black faces studying him intently. One very stoned kid staggered up and peered into Zan’s eyes like they were an astronomer’s telescope trained on cosmic emptiness; he asked something that Zan didn’t understand and, before Zan could answer, drew back his arm like a slingshot and let go, bringing his hand across Zan’s face.