When a man loses his reflection, he starts breaking mirrors.
Dawn found the ferry skeleton crouched under the highway like a rusted animal- ribs of steel, tarps scabbed in blue, graffiti prayers layered until they looked like a language that had forgotten its grammar. The river licked pilings with a sound like secrets being repeated.
“He’s there,” Nora murmured from the far side of the embankment. “Under the tarp with the busted bungee. Heat sig says alive. Barely.”
Emilia didn’t draw a weapon; she drew breath. Rafael stood close enough that she could feel the heat through his jacket, went still when she did, matched her rhythm like he’d been doing it for years.
She lifted the tarp.
The man beneath looked like the river had tried to eat him and failed out of spite. Grey stubble, old s
