Chapter 2
I even looked out the window, just to be sure. Occasional passersby, wrapped in thin jackets that were still too light for winter (it was all the fault of the late cold spell) were bustling home. No one was chasing or devouring anyone. Maybe I’d been hurled into some sort of parallel universe?
I gave my apartment a check. No, it didn’t gel with my theory. The same crumbling Soviet-era furniture: the folding couch, Grandma’s old table with my laptop on it, the Czech wall unit[4] — the...