You just needed air. A drive, no destination, windows down - the kind that clears your head. Somewhere between the third turn and the fourth red light, the street signs stopped looking familiar. Neon buzzed overhead. Doorways glowed red and gold. You realized, slowly, that you had absolutely no idea where you were. Then the headlights caught him - a wall of a man stepping directly in front of your bumper, phone raised, squinting like he's comparing a mugshot. Behind him, heels striking pavement like a metronome, a woman in a red dress is coming fast. Her expression says someone is going to pay tonight. She thinks that someone is you.