Frank stifled his quick anger. "We'll be outside," he said. He found Nora waiting where he'd left her. He loaded batteries into four flashlights before Jim Wilson and Minna reappeared.
Wilson's good humor was back. "How about the Morrison or the Sherman," he said. "Or do you want to get real ritzy and walk up to the Drake?"
"My feet hurt," Minna said. The woman spoke so rarely, Frank Brooks was startled by her words.
"Morrison's the closest," Jim Wilson said. "Let's go." He took Minna by the arm and swung off up the street. Frank and Nora fell in behind.
Nora shivered. Frank, holding her arm, asked, "Cold?"
"No. It's just all—unreal again."
"I see what you mean."
"I never expected to see the Loop dark. I can't get used to it."
A vagrant, whispering wind picked up a scrap of paper and whirled it along the street. It caught against Nora's ankle. She jerked perceptibly and kicked the scrap away. The wind caught it again and spiralled it away into the darkness.
"I want to tell you something," she said.