14
Three Kings Day
Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.
The gold fittings of a tall-case clock gleam in the dark at the end of what appears to be a long, dimly lit hallway.
Peter stands in front of a partially open door, staring at the number 12 painted at eye level on the white paneling. Perhaps this is a tavern.
He enters the room. The covers of the bed are thrown back. The window is open, and white gauzy fabric flutters in the cold air so that the light from the moon flickers and waves across the walls.
Mystified, Peter gazes at a metal structure of tubes all in a row underneath the window, with a knob on one side, and one pipe disappearing into the floor. On the wall above the bed, a woodcut print—a bunny, with dark grey and white fur and long silky ears folded back as if listening t
