Chapter 32 · for subscribers
Eleven years this town has let itself believe a six-year-old went into the water at the fourteenth of March and did not come out, and the only person who ever had to hold both halves of that in one hand was a bookshop keeper who could not walk to her own gate. She did not cut that stone because she thought I was dead. She cut it so that there would be somewhere for the town to put me down.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.