Chapter 211

Halfway through the hour, I saw her.

Not because she pushed forward—she didn’t.

Not because she wore a costume—she wore gray, nothing more, the color of a cloudy afternoon.

I saw her because the air around her seemed to choose her.

It's like a room chooses a window when it wants to breathe.

Her hair the color of dry reeds. Skin the color of salt. A plain dress. Hands that looked like they had f