Jeriel Wice has spent thirty-four years watching his own life from one step back. Catelin is the exception, two bright years he keeps waiting to deserve. Then, one November evening at their kitchen counter, she holds out the whole future at once. He hesitates. And in the weeks that follow something in her begins to go out, the hum beneath her days, the light behind her eyes, until the evening she packs a small bag, tells him the gentlest lie in the world, and walks out of their life at an even, unhurried pace.
Weeks later he sees her on a winter street and calls her name. Once with love. Once with strength. Once with everything he has.
She doesn't turn. She walks through the sound of her own name like weather.
Some people, when the last of their hope gives out, cross over. Jeriel follows, through dark water, onto the shore of a city the colour of the hour between day and night. The sky there never moves. The sea repeats one sentence, forever. The streets belong to the emptied: warm, beautiful, unreachable. Somewhere among them is Catelin, joined to him by a thin bright thread only he can see.
To bring her home, he must become the one thing he has never been: a man who moves.
For everyone who has ever stood at an edge and chosen to stay.The dedication
- In the writing
- 10+ yearsbegun as a nightmare that would not fade
- Drafts
- Uncountedrewritten past counting
- Length
- 393 ppfifty chapters, 6×9 cream
For readers ofMatt Haig's The Midnight Library, Audrey Niffenegger's The Time Traveler's Wife, and Haruki Murakami's Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World.
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