walks up the escalator, clippety-clop, new shoes fly away, keeps running can't stop, commuter catches flying shoe, passes on to other commuter, who puts it on the next step for running foot to seamlessly slide into shoe on her next step up.
all at escalator congratulate themselves.
no pumpkins in sight, but plenty of little mice giggling from the platforms.
It would be quiet as mice here except for Juanito chuntering away to himself like a loon two computers down in the computer dungeon. What else does one do at twenty past midnight on a friday night in madrid?
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