The candles were still smoking when the police arrived. They melted into crooked stubs on the cake, wax dripping down the sides like it hadn’t gotten the message yet—that the party was over. Music still hummed softly from someone’s forgotten phone. Half-full cups sat untouched where people had dropped them. No one had screamed. That was the part everyone kept repeating. One minute, we were singing. The next, the lights went out.