Zéphine hugged herself. “It doesn’t matter. My dance will fail tonight. They will dress me in white and give me the draught of waking sleep so I can neither feel nor move. Then Marie will sew my eyes shut with unicorn hair and slit my arms from wrist to elbow. When the unicorns come they will drink my blood until I die and eat my soul when it escapes between my lips. That’s why I’ve never loved my sister. I’ve always known the last thing I’ll ever see is her sewing my eyes shut.”
He only had one shirt. One pair of pants. No shoes. He brushed his hand along one wall. The parchment was soft with age. He closed the door, walked down the hall, down the stairs, and into the street.