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Maxwell spots two people mock-boxing in the warming sun outside a café. He grins in surprise, swings his head around on a neck suddenly less tense, and takes in a long sweep of bus window. It’s so clear: stones in the old post office wall, man in a blue jacket dusting strong hands, painted glass hung where someone’s flipping Open to Closed. In his headphones, the cellist draws out one long note.

Maxwell momentarily feels the focus of a skipping camera, moving mind to mind like a stream of consciousness commercial. But whose camera? He wonders. And where’s it going next?