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.
The ballroom was a drowned cathedral. Chandeliers hung like frozen chandeliers of ice. Every guest wore a mask — some ornate, some plain, all covering the upper face. Women in gowns that whispered of another century. Men in tailcoats or uniform jackets. No one spoke above a murmur. eye wide shut
He walked home. The city was asleep. The windows were all dark. But now he knew: behind every dark window, someone else was also just returning, also feeling the phantom weight of a second mask they'd only just learned to see. Now he stood before a door that looked