There are so many ways out of this. Out of me, out of you. I could walk into where the building runs out. Run past the shore of that deep pond. Figure out what kind of heat petrol and matches can bring on into the party. See what cold steel feels like inside the tightly packed veins on the marks of your lucky bracelet. Steal something to drink from a goldsmith’s workplace. Trust me, there are so many ways out of this. Trust me.