The Grey District was quiet. It was a false quiet. The kind that held its breath before a scream. Kaito sat on the edge of a water tower. The metal was cold beneath his palms. The rust flaked off onto his skin. He did not wipe it away.
Below him, the city slept. Lights blinked in distant apartments. Cars moved along the main artery like blood cells in a vein. Everything looked normal. Everything looked safe.
Kaito knew better.
He closed his eyes. He listened. Not with his ears. With the cards in his jacket. They hummed when the air grew thin. They vibrated when the reality stitch loosened.
Tonight, they were quiet.
Kaito thought: It is too quiet.
He thought about the silence he kept during the day. He thought about the words he swallowed. People thought he was empty. They thought his head was a vacant room. They were wrong.
His head was crowded.
