I took a deep breath; I could see my car at the end of the block. Emeline, I said, but I couldn’t finish the sentence. I studied her face, hunting for clues, but even at this late hour she was bright and blank. She looked worried for me, as if I were the loony one. I didn’t think she could be such a good actress; then again, I barely knew her. Gifting me the wig, stealing my perfume … What did she want from me? I leaned against a parking meter, hugging myself. San Francisco was sinking, I could feel it; it was a city of tricksters and frauds, dead ends and trapdoors, people who weren’t who they said they were. The Victorians built on landfill were sliding into the sea, the buses all read NOT IN SERVICE. Emeline watched me, and I could see, in a small but real way, that she was afraid of me. Not because she thought I’d hurt her, but because she didn’t understand what was happening. She’d never seen somebody snap.