The explosion ripped through the two storage tanks like two huge opening eyes, in the darkness.
Grant, standing with the phone in his hand, watched the glow in the night sky, and knew he was near. Cement shard in one hand, phone in the other, he stood there, the glow reflected in his own eyes.
Turning, impossibly, he watched "Love, Magic, Learning", flash in Neon on the side of a building. A tube of lipstick, held in a delicately manicured hand, appeared, rising like a torch, the hand bending down like a snake, towards an upturned, elegant face, which turned to look at him kindly.
"Do me", she said, calmly. "I look better painted."
The screen closed, impossibly, to a head and shoulders of a Robert-Palmer styled, sleekly cut, Mona Lisa look alike.
Grant blinked, twice.
"Jesus", he said. "I can smell you, you freak show."
In the near distance, the siren wailed towards him.
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