The events described in this story are fictional. The author makes no assertion about the lives or characters of the real people whose names and identities she has used in the writing of this story, and makes no money from it.


Dom falls asleep repeatedly in the back of the taxi, waking with a sick jolt. Fuck's sake, New Year's Day. Normal people are still in bed. They wait at the lights and the engine shudders him out of consciousness again.

Something wakes him -- a smell, or a noise or something.

There are coloured spots before his eyes, and when he rubs them, they're still there. As the taxi pulls away, the spots merge, come into magical focus, and he realises he's been staring, half-asleep, at Orlando -- supersized, grotesque -- on a billboard outside the car window. Fuck's sake. New Year's Day.