Boris in the Bardo
Fiction
Narration
A man named Boris travels to a flooded town, which is littered with small fragments of his memory. He seems to be looking for a child, but his only clue is a cryptic photograph.
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Through a gap in the curtain, made by one stained finger, and if parted wide enough for a spider to slide through, Berg could watch the illuminated palace across the road lighting up the solid Victorian blocks, surrounded by parked vehicles. On the right a triangular patch of churchyard; perhaps that’s what accounted for the burnt smell that invaded his room every night, if some paper was stufed in the cracks, and he remembered to close the window, then the smell might be kept out.

Copyright / Guillaume Menguy / 2024