Go back to the end of the line here first.

“Why do you have to stand so close? It’s not necessary, you know.”

I turned, my attention refocused by the six feet of space opening up before me in line. I rushed forward, nearly falling into the person ahead of me and leaning far back, overcorrecting to keep myself upright. As I leaned, in mortal peril of knocking into the stranger ahead of me, I fell back into the friend I’d left behind. She squeaked as if I’d stepped on her toes. And, maybe I had. I was too busy with the line to care.

Suddenly she’d disappeared. Her hair brushed over her shoulders with every duck under the metal dividers weaving back and forth to form the queue to Headless Horseman’s Coach. The squeak and rumble of heavy passenger cars each resembling a black carriage with pale horse rearing in front rolled by practically unnoticed. I turned from the rapidly fading figure of my friend and rushed deeper into the line.

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