Chapter 12 · free to read
Three thousand seats and a camera crane. Eleven months earlier I was fighting in a temple forecourt for three hundred baht and a bell somebody's uncle rang by hand.
The commentary desk called me a returning prospect with an unclear medical history. The second half of that was the only accurate thing anybody said about me all night.
Round two. He had watched the tape of a man who kicks off his right leg. Nobody had told him that man had been dead for a year and a half.
Four minutes and eleven seconds into the fourth, something inside the graft moved. I finished the round, and then I finished the fifth, and I did not tell one living person.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.