Chapter 3 · free to read
The spark fell. And then the fire did the thing no fire does: it kept to a line.
A shaped fire eats what it is drawn around. Nothing else. Nineteen years of scenes, and I had never once written that down.
Six rounds. Center mass. The plaster behind him took every one.
Nineteen markers on the bureau map. This was a twentieth, and it was not in my handwriting.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.