Next to the mall for old people, a cacophony of youth. Spring break, fresh puddles, a bed of cotton candy. The smell of waffle cone and rubber boots, the garish plastic tarp that can't hide car fumes from the parking lot. You are holding someone’s hand, their face is vague. An obnoxiously loud alarm sounds. You jerk awake, the candy apple has been bitten. Your fingers open like a jellyfish releasing its prey, a reflex you learned by now and a memory of a memory escapes; an echo.