Do you remember me, Pia?
He removes the packet from the inside breast pocket of his leather jacket. It glows whitely against the black satin lining, less so against the crimson exterior. He doesn't open the slip of folded paper, but turns it idly in his hands. Seeing it. Not seeing it.
If you do think of me now and then, I imagine it is not my face that comes to mind. We never saw each other the night we met. He chuckles ruefully at the memory. And your family kept you far removed from me after that.
The blade from a straight-edge razor rests on the coffee table in front of him. He's come to think of this as his coffin table. It has never held a beverage. Only escape. One day it might be the scene of his final escape.
From the night of that party onward, the Falconer cursed me whenever I sidled past him on the rocky path linking your hilltop home to N'hander Falls. He spat on the ground where I dared to walk. "You have no business here, boy. Be gone," he would g