On Valencia, as they turned toward 3.7 and Joe-Eddy’s, Eunice face-captured a young man, his dark hair buzzed short, hunched in the passenger seat of a beige Fiat, alone. He glanced up as they passed, features lit from below by his phone. Verity, peering ahead for the place that sold otaku denim, realized they hadn’t passed 3.7 yet, on the opposite side, so the jeans would be farther along.