Chapter 13 · free to read
He had my watch on the wrong wrist. That is the one thing I could hold on to for the next four minutes.
Seventy-six people whose faces nobody photographed and whose names nobody typed. Four nights of my handwriting is the entire remaining evidence that they happened.
Thirty-nine years one short, and my supervisor had spent five days turning herself into exactly the shape of the hole.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.