The laughter rang through the alleyway and surrounded them all, shaming Orin, who knew, of course, that he should not be ashamed, but that did not matter. He was ashamed of his body, withered, torn, and ragged before his friend. And he was ashamed of the laughter; ashamed that he must count himself a member of a species that would delight in such a thing as this. But his shame fed his anger, and his anger gave him strength. He pried open his eyes, with tears flowing freely now, and forced them up to the eyes of his friend.



Henry’s eyes twitched as they widened with fear and looked down to Orin and the anger he knew he would find there. For a moment time ceased to move, and in that moment Henry did find anger there, but the anger was not for him.



The jovial laughter stopped, and a sharp voice spit, “Tun Sie es. Tun Sie es jetzt, Jungen!” No, thought Henry, I won’t. I won’t do it. Shaking now, body and soul, Henry’s jaw dropped ever so slightly as he realized what was set in Orin’s eyes: permission. One way lay death for both of them. The other way lay life for Henry. What else could Orin do? When he had looked up, Orin had fully expected to find the eyes of Henry gone; replaced by the angry, stoic eyes of the demon—the same demon that had possessed the hearts and minds of so many people around him and begun to turn the world upside down. Instead, he saw Henry—good old Henry. So Orin looked at him and smiled. He knew Henry would understand.



As Orin closed his eyes, he was surprised to find a song floating through his head—a Louis Armstrong tune that he and Henry had sung together as children:

Say, don't you know it? You don't know how, don't be blue, someone wi...

