Chapter 3 · free to read
Ten past four in the morning. I spent forty minutes trying to get a piece of card off my own shirt.
Scissors. A lighter. A bin four floors down and a river after that. It was back on my chest inside a minute, every single time.
A line closes and it generates paper for years. This one generated four sheets and a torn edge.
Thirty-nine years in this authority. She did not ask me what incident.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.