Chapter 60 · for subscribers
It cleared the way it clears every morning of my life, from the top of the frame down, and it put him in the gateway in the coat. It did not put me on the tread. Nineteen years I have wiped that glass at dawn and read the next day off it, and the first morning it has ever shown me a thing that was already true is the morning I am not in it. I was not refused out of my forecourt. I was wiped off the page.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.