Chapter 14 · free to read
Two thousand kilometres from anybody who knew their faces.
The city closed over the two of them for one night and asked nothing at all.
They lay awake a metre apart, both of them being very careful.
At the sixth theatre the old flat-painter knew the face at once. He had worked beside it for a season. Then somebody came asking after it — a cream suit, a single strand of pearls — and the boy was gone inside a week.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.