Baggy pants sagging. Grunge shirts ripped. Arms bare. Up to no good. Twentyish youngsters. Wandering aimlessly. Standing. Lifting a sweaty baseball cap to the blearing sun.
“You think you’re so much, huh?”
One of them affronts another, sneering. The second guy shoves back.
“Ooh, I’m so scared!”
Think you’re tough or what? They continue to pace around. I’m among them, in a lush opening surrounded by trees. Some guy grabs me by the collar, and I punch him hard. He lets go. I keep walking. Nearby, more fighting begins. A red bandana flashes his butterfly knife, and I take out my switchblade. A close one; wind slices by my ear. Roundhouse kick. No love. No hate. Just heat.
My shoulder sleeve is tugged by some girl.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“Yeah,” I agree.
Familiar. Do I know this chick?
I look at her again. It was her, from my dreams, from the real world. From my other dreams, from my daydreams. Silver-bleached hair, with cyan and gold highlights. It was short, like a tomboy’s. Cute. What’s she doing here?
Hand in hand, we run away, slowly. We don’t want to attract too much attention. Why’s she wearing this maid outfit? She isn’t a maid, or at least, wasn’t. We dodge around, avoiding the stabbing and slashing, staying out of people’s ways. Nice, flowery embroidery. Pretty. It’s okay to stare at her black and white dress, right? Since she’s leading the way. Princess and knight.
We’re leaving the crowd; everyone else is too occupied. They don’t give a darn about us. I’m surprised that she’s here, and awkwardly, I don’t know what to say. Smile. Kept going into the woods. Can’t see them anymore. Hi. Clear.
We’re safe together.
“No we’re not. What’s in your pockets?”
I pull out my USB.
“They’re going to kill you for that, you know?”
“I know.”
“Aren’t you going to do anything about it?”
This stupid thing, what to do with it, I don’t know. I couldn’t throw it away. Too precious, too dangerous to fall into anybody else’s hands. Kingston hard drive. Grey label grooved on the smooth, plastic white case. I can’t even faintly remember what’s in it. Stop thinking.
“I know somewhere safe – let’s go.”
“Alright.”

That was basically the beginning of the story, before we passed by those reticent churchgoers in what appeared like the half-rebuilt ruins of the Sistine Chapel. Remember the exit, that triple fork in the road? We chose the narrow, secluded path into the shadier forest and hid it behind the small Madonna fountain. The ghost of a memory hinted to me that the shadows probably found and stole it, but we were too afraid to return to the same place. We couldn’t risk being discovered.
I woke up to realize that it was all a dream.
But it’s figuratively what happened between you and me.