the affectionate screamers

There is often a cluster of chain-smoking kids who like to gather in the public square by City Hall during the day, kids who dress in black and wear chains, playing hackey sack and shouting at each other from the patch of grass on one side of the square across the vast expanse of concrete to the fountain on the other side. “What!” is a favourite exclamation of theirs, usually followed by some string of expletives as people come and go from the groups. Occasionally I see them exchange a flurry of angry royal salutes or see them switch between flying at each other’s throats in anger or clinging to each other as if they would die if they were ever separated. Inevitably the rowdy crowd disperses and when only two or three are left to linger, I realize that only a select few are actually the loud ones and that the group is just your average bunch of teenagers. They are affectionate screamers, with no idea what they’re doing.