I turn quickly again but there is no third emerging from the doorway. None overhead either. There is a car coming up the street, slowing, however. No matter. The terminal’s potential must be exhausted for the moment, though I am puzzled by the consideration of how long it must have been building to produce the two I just dispatched. It is best that I be away quickly now.

As I resume my progress, though, a voice calls to me from the car, which has now drawn up beside me:

“Madam, a moment please.”

It is a police car, and the young man who has addressed me wears a uniform and a very strange expression.

“Yes, officer?” I reply.

“I saw you just a few moments ago,” he says. “What were you doing?”

I laugh.

“It is such a fine evening,” I say then, “and the street was deserted. I thought I would do a kata with my bo.”

“I thought at first that something was attacking you, that I saw something . . .”

“I am alone,” I say, “as you can see.”

He opens the door and climbs out. He flicks on a flashlight and shines its beam across the sidewalk, into the doorway.

“Were you setting off fireworks?”

“No.”

“There were some sparkles and flashes.”

“You must be mistaken.”

He sniffs the air. He inspects the sidewalk very closely, then the gutter.

“Strange,” he says. “Have you far to go?”

“Not too far.”

“Have a good evening.”

He gets back into the car. Moments later it is headed up the street.

I continue quickly on my way. I wish to be out of the vicinity before another charge can be built. I also wish to be out of the vicinity simply because being here makes me uneasy.

I am puzzled at the ease with which I was located. What did I do wrong?