Ruby staggered into the House through the side door, dumping her scarf on the banister before sitting down on the bottom step. The hallway was coated in worn pink wallpaper lit in the same garish orange as the street outside. It was unreasonably quiet, the silence only penetrated by a ceaseless squeak from one of the upstairs beds.

Outside, Ruby could see the same star as before, shining out in the blackness. She doubted her sanity just thinking of it, and was attacking her forehead with her fingertips when Bill exited the Waiting Room, followed by the cold laughter of two men.

“What’s that?” Bill nodded at the molting star that hung from Ruby’s hand.

“Kid made it me.”

Through the curtain the star seemed to flash at her. Ruby shook her head, digging her fingers into her temples again.

“You don’t have to work tonight, chick.” A crease had formed between Bill’s old brows.

“No,” Ruby looked at the carpet. “Just get me something good and I’ll get changed.” Somehow she could feel the star screaming for her.