One blustery fall day, as a chill wind wound its way between the oppressively tall structures, Maryanne similarly blew through the streets on her way to Nikola’s. Inspired by the manic breezes temporarily erasing the stink all cities cultivate, Maryanne had skipped her medication that morning. Filled with the energy those meds usually skimmed like cream off the milk of her consciousness, she danced through those autumnal gusts until she arrived at the dilapidated entrance to her favorite bookstore. “Hello!” she said cheerily to the boy manning the checkout counter that Saturday morning.