The entire situation was covert. Random Friday afternoons would require a bicycle ride to the corner. The first real block of the area. The communique was always tense. Difficult to decipher. A striking yet watered down red colored by yellow, never orange. The message would be paid for by one of us. Eventually the path would appear and we would all move on, alone with the burden. Once understood the individual mission repeatedly brought satisfaction and a sense of momentous relief. Satiated again until the evening broadcast.