Tanaka, the tailor, made me a gown from emerald green silk shantung, raw and rough in places, smooth and delicate in others. When I walk into the masquerade ball a week later, held in the Museum of Fine Art’s undamaged ballroom, the dress fits me like a second skin, the skirt ragged and long with...
I find them just as he wakes up and clutches his bleeding head. I guide him into the backseat and hop in the front.By the time they start shooting again, I’ve already started the car.It’s only when I peel out of the parking lot and a bullet flies through the back window, shattering the glass, tha...