Falke
pull up a seat right next to men and
pull out a pen, write down your memory
Startled at the unexpected appearance of something - let alone a rabbit - in front of him. He takes a sep back, reflexively clutching Phi close until recognition kicks in. “Oh hey there,” Falke murmurs to the hare, recovering his breath. It puffs out, white in the chill ocean-side air. White, like hare’s tail.
He follows the hare’s course as it brushes up against his leg and then peers after it, into the maze. The hedges are too high to see over, and he is too large to squeeze into the hole the hare went it. Phi is too cold to venture out, so Falke decides to investigate a little further, walking a little further along the hedge line, searching for something that looks like an entrance.
how many of us
are on the cusp on the verge?
