Chapter SeventeenFriday flaps frantically at the windows, but Felix does not open the door to it. He thinks of little all day except the vicar’s words, and the shivering sack of bones on the church floor beside him. Only a few years older than he, Sam is alone in the world, except for the angel beside whom he sometimes sleeps and begs. It is no wonder a moment with her in the storm-tossed skies seems preferable to this absurd life. Felix feels as though he is living underwater, in this city where the air smells of salt; sinking deeper and deeper with each passing day into the crushing oblivion of life’s depths.
“What a week,” says Michael, when he returns from the office in the evening. He showers immediately, no doubt eager to escape his work shirt, trousers and tie. Felix knows the feel
