The boy is the son of fortune-teller. Zachary Ezra Rawlins sits on floor his closet with door closed surrounded by a forest coats back up against where to Narnia would be if were wardrobe having something an existential crisis. standing in hall and staring at scrap notebook paper when Kat comes out lounge wrapped her winter layers again. train bound for Manhattan window frozen tundra New England begins not first time today question life choices. arrives Algonquin approximately four minutes after he leaves hotel room. checks watch three times while waits retrieve coat from check. cold so long that rings bell Collector’s Club second nearly finger. velvet bench fanciest elevator has ever occupied wondering it all but rather stationary room rigged feel like because been sitting what feels very very time. wakes ago far away or least that’s like. follows Mirabel down passageways taking sharp turns between halls had noticed before through doors realized fact doors. fairly certain someone hit him head though mostly remembers front hitting stairs pain most noticeable as regains consciousness. darkness. finds himself pink-haired lady gun who he’s pretty sure just committed arson top already crimes day unconscious man might attempted murderer throbbing cannot decide needs nap drink why exactly more comfortable now present company than before. half underwater taste honey mouth. Sweet Sorrows exactly Dorian said be inside pocket paint-splattered coat thrown over chair left arrived. stands statue woman covered bees takes crown make queen. faded leather sofa below surface earth late night next crackling fireplace reading. descends narrow staircase beneath statue Persian cat following heels. halfway elevator returning Vermont university thesis normal forgetting any this happened hey maybe he’ll take someday convince whole underground library wonderland was elaborate fantasy backstory about came told many started believe only squish-faced stray followed home wherever home is. walks Harbor realizing doesn’t actually know Mirabel’s is thought ask. stares into wardrobe contains great deal sweaters linen shirts trousers questions sanity tumbles curtain cashmere linen pulling crash tunnel behind them collapsing sending cloud dust. being dragged backward away rift torn open Heart Harbor Keeper’s office remained intact feet slipping broken tiles. she impossibly doorway. dancing. upward toward dim light shines (not brightly) distance deep spot it. pictured character book never dreaming end face-to-face one them even knew Simon Keating actual person he’d anyway currently looking at. looks words longing read near delirious have finally found another sentence starts fortune-teller familiar serifed typeface piece removed turned star then gifted small owl stops. Rawlins young play crystals mother’s expansive collection: holding lights gazing inclusions cracks wounds fractured healed time imagining worlds within stones entire kingdoms universes held palms. snow-covered field. snow talking moon. keys middle starlit made snow ice. wide cavern far earth. dead. rows boat across ocean paper. doorway life-size dollhouse filled larger-than-life-size honeycomb size cats. guided giant basement there ballroom honeycomb shimmering gold beautiful. wakes gasping new heart hammering chest.