Two people board the bus together at Manly Wharf. The girls sits and the boy stands, hovering near. He’s tall and skinny, with black jeans, a t-shirt saying Calexico Tucson Arizona, bleached blonde hair, and sunglasses too big for his face. In one ear he wears a silver dagger on a chain, but he hangs his head in a way that seems apologetic, and pockets his free hand. His shoulders droop. He doesn’t smile.

The girl is out of place and owning it: Bollywood Noir in the sunshine.