You turn a corner onto Adams Street, your heels clicking a steady rhythm against the pavement. The streetlamps cast pools of golden light onto the wet cobblestones, reflecting the neon glow of a nearby movie marquee.

A group of young men in uniform whistle from across the street. You ignore them, as a dame does.

Up ahead, the door to a diner swings open, and two figures spill out onto the sidewalk, laughing. One is tall and broad-shouldered, built like a truck. The other is smaller, wiry, with a mop of dark hair and a sharp grin that cuts through the dusk.

The tall one bumps into a trash can, sending it clattering. The smaller one catches his arm, steadying him.