Perhaps realizing that you’re beginning to shiver furiously, you decide to walk back into the alley to get away from some of the snow.
As you walk through the alleyway, you stop and look at the stained cloths. They’ve piled up on the edges of the alley, at the corner of the alley and the street. They’ve been pushed aside at the theater exit and the “Employees Only” door.
Looking closer, they appear to still be wet with a reflective liquid that shimmers as you move your head. It’s like looking at an oil slick, shifting between bright and fluorescent colors as you move your head. You pick up a piece of cloth, and you get the viscus, oily substance on your hands. The substance is tacky and warm. Not hot, but it’s certainly warmer than you are in the cold. Close up, it smells sharp and chemical, like a paint or varnish. You wipe your hands on the walls, trying to get the sticky stuff off your hands, but hardly any of it comes off.
You look around the alley in search of a clue or pattern. Maybe the scraps are more in one part of the alley than another? They start a few feet from the main street and seem to be more concentrated at the far end of the alley near the “Employees Only” door.