• Vol. 01
  • Chapter 10


In the moments before Robin died the water
stopped, running dry comedy; the sun paused
like a clock run out of winding coil; it peeped
into the frosted window curiously. He stared
at his face in the blue mirror, hung on a blue
wall in a blue world on a blue stage with blue
curtains closing. He hadn’t danced through
his morning routine – brush, rinse, brush, rinse.
All he knew was beauty, the beauty of memory
that makes odd-shaped things like him,
beautiful. He saw his face fade in the mirror,
revealing the open white door to a new stage,
for the final act. He breathed a smile which
echoed across time and face. Then the water
started running again.