Painting the town

They wheeled him in, covered in scratches, screaming. His pupils were dilated, eyes bloodshot. He flailed his arms wildly to ward off the demons. He screamed when we approached him, and he screamed even more when he saw our gloves - bright blue and leaving trails of blue fire behind them whenever we moved.

His hair was matted together with emulsion paint, and his clothes were bespattered with it. He had fallen off the window ledge of his apartment into the construction area below.

Five minutes later, they wheeled in a small girl, 2 or maybe 3 years old. She was crying. There was paint in her eyes, her ears, her nose. Her clothes were a solid, hard shell of emulsion. As we washed the emulsion off her face, she opened her eyes and saw Mr Scream next door and started to cry, arms reaching out for him.

He did not even remember holding her in his lap.