Chapter One: September Thirty-Fifth

Above its collar floated a white blur, swollen as paper left in water. It slowly lifted a hand toward his shoulder. Lin shoved a tabletop vacuum to the floor. The crash distracted the thing. Without replying, without looking back, he edged toward the door. In the glass, the uniform followed without touching the ground. Outside, corridor lights died one after another. Uncle Chen's booth stood open beside the stairs. A radio read the hourly news; half a sesame cake and a cup of hot tea sat on the desk. The chair was empty. The duty roster showed no night watchman. Yet a cartoon rabbit, pasted there by Chen's daughter, decorated his thermos. In the drawer lay a paper boat half folded for his grandson. Lin called the center's director.