LaMesha remained close to DaMarko as they entered City Hall—something about it felt unusual—the workers there, such as the receptionists, counselors, and custodians, were absent; it was quiet, empty, and smelled burnt: the nostalgic burn of a simulation trial, but it wasn’t an authorized day; nervousness skittered down LaMesha’s spine. She turned to DaMarko, who appeared laser-focused; she tapped his shoulder once.
“Do you have any idea what the mayor wants with us?” LaMesha asked.
“No, do you?” DaMarko replied. He picked up the pace.
“No, that’s why I asked you.”
