She walked deeper. The air tasted of wet plaster and old secrets.
The Caretaker. She had invented that name. She had never spoken it aloud. Not to her therapists, not to the one ex-boyfriend who stayed long enough to learn her tics, not to the mirror on the nights she wept without sound. Kaori Saejima -2021-
She moved a silver general in her head. 27. Silver to 4c. She walked deeper
The envelope had no return address. Just her name in calligraphy so precise it looked printed. Kaori Saejima -2021-
For three years.