He was walking toward the stalls, into the shadows. He looked down, expecting to see that needle of ruby emerge from his chest. Nothing. He found her. She was thrown down at the foot of a concrete pillar, eyes closed. There was a smell of cooked meat. The crowd was chanting the winner’s name. A beer vendor was wiping his taps with a dark rag. One white sneaker had come off, somehow, and lay beside her head.