by Molly Andrea-Ryan Robert Heiser There is only one way out, you realize, squinting past exposed wiring and broken crates. The glowing exit sign whispers, “Catch me if you can,” each red letter blowing you a playground kiss. You take your daughter by the hand. She is, by now, screaming. The gorilla rattling its metal cage looks painfully fake to you, but somehow, this doesn’t provide comfort. Somewhere deep down, your daughter also detects imitation, but the tin-can screamin