Outside, later, the rain had stopped. He stood under a working streetlamp, watching his breath cloud. He still wore his mask. He wasn't sure anymore which side was the inside.
The invitation had arrived three days ago — no return address, just a crimson wax seal he'd broken with his thumb. You are invited to see clearly. eye wide shut
"That's the second mask," the woman said. "The one that admits you were already wearing one." Outside, later, the rain had stopped
"No," she agreed. "Pleasure is easy. This is about looking at what you hide from yourself." He wasn't sure anymore which side was the inside
Now he stood before a door that looked like any other: black paint peeling, a brass knocker shaped like a sleeping fox. He knocked twice. A slot opened. Eyes — neither kind nor cruel — studied his face.