We should match.

The streets were lit with glowing bulbs, a rainbow theme and crowded.
“Excuse me,” she had to shrivel so she wouldn’t touch everyone she passed.
Her cape hit a woman’s mini skirt. Her heel got stuck in a crack and she grabbed a large bear to keep balance. He didn’t mind it. He barely noticed. Those kind of casualties can be brushed off. It was impossible not to let a hand force a lower back to move or to stand tall and let your shoulders brush each bar patron. She quickly adjusted her headband to keep the antlers on.
“Excuse me,” she repeated as she barreled through them all.
“Excuse me.”
“Excuse me.”
Politeness was the indelible torch she carried. Things broke at the green and she shuffled her way across the intersection without tripping again. The clacking of her heels becoming louder as she moved away from them, she could hear horns and laughter behind her.
We should all match.
When she saw him, he seemed taller.