fragment from “the invisible museum”

Billy walked out into the crowded night. He was aimless and hungering, a man who had made himself rich and found that his money did not satisfy him. His limbs were bony in a way that the suits he wore could never entirely conceal. He had started with a fine, if ordinary face. It was the stunning crook of his nose, smashed long ago in a high-school fight, that made him memorable. When the bruises had healed, he found the break had left him handsome, possessed of a face with new complexity. People saw what they wanted to see in his starry black eyes: merriment, wrath, mischief. He knew the eyes were nothing but a mirror of other people’s wishes. Knowing this gave him power, it showed him what they desired.


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