No one is moving or really talking. There is a low murmur and I can’t make out too many words. There is also a thick haze of marijuana in the air.
Myla’s Mother begins to kick the locked door. People stand up and head to the dresser. One by one they climb to the top and slide out the basement window. As the fight continues a hand reaches out and pulls me towards the dresser. “Time to go,” whispers the skinny girl with big glasses and a baggy army jacket. The guy with her reminds me of the comedian Gallagher. He has big black curly hair, a Grateful Dead tie dyed shirt and a mustache that he swirls between his one first finger and thumb.
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