Chapter 2 · free to read
He'd been writing to me for nineteen years. Now he wanted an answer.
The fire cut the roof in half. He was on the far side. My home was under my feet.
My own walls. I'd been staring at his work every night and calling it my job.
And then I saw the face under the paper. A face I'd spent nineteen years forgetting.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.