It comes and goes, waves and flows. Today is the day the wall breaks. Everything was tinged with the uncertain clarity of a lucid dream. Claire Ashworth stood in an alley behind the Electric Mall, her hood low and a bandana tied around her mouth. In her hands she clasped a nearly expended bottle of black spray paint. She was transfixed, standing in a neon glower that seemed to snake its way through the alley to touch on her face. Claire's hands were smeared with black liquid that rolled and flowed from her palm, steadily forming a pool around her feet. The alley seemed to breathe in time with her, its battered bricks swelling with each slow inhalation. "Miss Ashworth," came the distant, authoritarian call, "what are you doing?" She felt her mouth move, but there was no sound. The acidic light crept into the alley. Dancing phantoms of light played on every surface, reflecting from rusted ladders and toppled trash cans. In their midst, perhaps at the exact center of their radiance, stood a figure of stark shadow; clutching a ruler in one hand and a book in the other. "MISS ASHWORTH," it boomed with such force that the spray paint dropped from between her fingers, "WAKE UP!" As the metallic can hit the ground, it exploded into a storm of black ink; draining all color from the surrounding world. All the colors but white. Claire Ashworth blinked and slowly lifted her head from between the pages of her bible. Fluorescent white bored through her eyes and the smell of hand sanitizer tickled her nose. Her teacher, Mister Ballard, loomed over her...a ruler in one hand and a book in the other. From behind his glasses and the jowly scowl, he watched her with something perilously close to ire. "I-I'm sorry," she managed to squeak before yawning at length, "I didn't mean to fall asleep, again, in your class M-mister Ballard!" Redness touched her cheeks and her mouth seemed to collapse as she made herself as small as possible in the seat. Her teacher merely walked away from her, satisfied with her being awake. Claire's hands were shaking, she noticed, but clean. A dream? Or...? Claire let loose a whispering sigh, brushing tangled strands of dark hair from her eyes. She felt sick and drained, despite having slept for a few brief moments. As she contemplated this, a roar echoed in the distance; the screeching of brakes and the sudden crunch of metal...followed by a rumble that she could feel through the legs of her chair. Smoke bloomed in bitter plumes outside the school window, from somewhere near the heart of town. Others had already stood to get a closer look, she lingered behind them; peering between shoulders and elbows to catch glimpses of what was transpiring. "Is...is that a car," Claire mumbled, staring in disbelief. Yet there it was, fit snugly into a freshly forced hole in the school's parameter wall. Bricks had been tossed across the courtyard, an uneven spread. The car was still on, it seemed by the grinding and squealing attempt of its wheels to find purchase. It's alarm was a clarion wail that stuck in her ears, but it wasn't the car she was trying to see.