“We stayed a step behind the three boys. Every once in a while they would turn around and look at us, wondering, I guess, why we were following them. Sometimes they stared openly at Ema. There may have been derision in their eyes, I couldn’t say for sure. Ema was decked out in her customary black – black clothes, black hair, black nail polish, black lipstick. Tattoos ran up and down her arms and across her neck. I.”