Art from scavenged fragmentsI eyed the visitor’s chair with a practiced eye and deigned it safe for me to sit on the worn plastic. The standard issue seat screamed its institutional identity and reminded me of the army. So, I sat, placing my knees in perfect alignment and resting my fists over them as though for a platoon photograph. Henare stared at me from the other side of the desk. “Where were you last night, Mr Jethro?”
I studied a long hair protruding from his forehead and wondered if he knew of its existence. His muddy hair spiked from his scalp to create a forest of disarray. I breathed in and out and my trigger finger twitched in muscle memory of taking a shot. “I stayed in Auckland overnight.” My voice held no emotion. “I arrived at my hotel just before two o’clock and checked o
