"Where are you taking us?" Brooklyn asks, though she doesn’t really care.
"Just down the block."
We’re all the way down the block, and around the corner, before Brooklyn asks "Why."
I get out of the car. She follows. I check the doors. I make sure the trunk is locked. Then I give Brooklyn my keys.
"I don’t want em," she says.
"Come on," I say. "Let’s go."
But she won’t leave until I take the keys.
"Fuck, Brooklyn—"
"Don’t Fuck Brooklyn me! I mean you can fuck Brooklyn you just can’t ’fuck Brooklyn’."
I take the keys.
We put them in some neighbor’s mailbox, halfway up the street, and walk the rest of the way back to the House of Transformation.
By the time we get to the porch, every step we’re making is in tai chi.