Chapter :1

The sun rose in the east on the day the world

turned inside out.

Endings had to begin with mornings,

after all. Mornings happened to everyone.

Histories concluded. Futures began. The sun

rose, regardless of what kind of inside-out

world rose with it.

But no one noticed all the ways everything

could end. The sun was too routine, the

world too complex to see the many ways it

could twist. What could go wrong, everyone

thought, without thinking about thinking it.

Hundreds and thousands and millions didn't

blink as another night trundled into another

day.

The Holtzer family, of which there were

six, was no exception. They had no idea the

world was about to turn inside out. No clue

an ending was coming for them.

It was the way of things.

But things had a way of ending, and endings

had to begin with mornings.

There were three.

The first morning happened to a man in a

uniform.

The unitoorm

was biacK ana very, vey ed

O we old too

Ancient and soft. So well-worn, that even

wnen the man in a uior wasnt weang

the uniform, he was stil in it. He could never

take it oft.

The man in question woke before his alarm

id, a syptorn or his ehroric urnltormity. His

eyes opened without etort, his awareness

rame tast. 1The rain outside. The pins and

sprawled across him. The furry line of dust

on his ceiling fan. All of it was the same as

yesterday, and the day belore that, and the

day before that.

Police officer Hendrik Holtzer had,

Somehow, made it to another morring

The mornng ol September 17th.

So Hendrik did not Dnnk. NOT Y.

The st

Jstled as he freed his

ot pinned by Gail's head. her soft

hair, the sweet wrongness of her scent-

aru reached lor Ius old coluege alartr tlock

ot the lghtstand. The clock had sentries:

pictures, caged in scratched wooden rames.

e ndrik felr their

unblinkinga

stares, as he always did, hut he didn't look.

Ertairtcu pett as i

toothpaste and the spaghetti he'd made for

dinner the night before. It made his eyes

Dut Stl, ne duont Dunk. 50 t telt luke

minutes and months before 5:30 a.m, before

NCy OL AY S7:4 shouled, 'Go0d

NODOD0YTEg, St. LOU2

Hut they did. They did, and Hendrik

switched it off inunediately, like usual. Gail

with dhe weather in old Mr. Winslow's

apartment below. like usual. The pictures

on the nightstand watched, like sial. All

of it dhe sane, same, same. Like it wasn't

September1'th. Like the world deserved to

Like he deserved to wake up at al.

Although police officer Hendrik Holtzer was

in excellent physieal shape, one coua suy

at he was mussing soxe pieces. ere were

holes in him. And though he'd put them

there he hadn t filled them; that had once

Ja

But they wvere dead nOw. Retired and gone.

History had another name for September

00 ut to elu it wus Uhe ugt

ns peuple went trorm being people to being

pictures o a nightstand.

That was the night that Hendrik Holtzer

became just a man in a uniform. The night

he'd had to solder the fabric to his bones

to keep him upright. He buried his family

before burying himself into his job and

though he'd tried to work himself to death,

the Reaper wouldn't take him.

Their uniforms were much too heavy for

anyone else, it seemed.

So there he was, nine years later, Keeping

his eyes open as he got out of bed. He tossed

the covers over Gail as she adjusted to a bed

without a body, to the ghosts they brought

with them into the sheets. Her face contorted

and she squirmed. Nightmares, then. Despite

his urgency, an echo of concerm for her

forced him to sit. He watched as his hand

rubbed her shoulder until she calmed.

Normally Hendrik would get back in bed

with her, would wait until she woke so

they could lose themselves in their skin

for a while. Hendrik's demons may have

been vicious, but they weren't lonely. Gail

Rivera had her own nightstand pictures.

And though there wasn't much to the pair of

them, what was left fit well together. They

kept each other going. So Hendrik knew

Gail would understand why he needed to be

alone. She'd know the holes in him would be

hungry today.

He got up when he felthe couldn't take it

anymore. Kept the lights off as he walked to

the bathroom. The mirror was black, and his

face was dark as he brushed his teeth and

flossed. Combed his hair. Undressed. He still

did not blink. Not yet. Not yet. Almost.

His hands were steady as he wrenched the

knob of the shower with more force than

necessary. The jets, pressured. The water,

boiling. He stepped in anyway, knowing it

wouldn't hurt enough. The holes were too

deep to be cauterized. And so they gaped,

bloodless and yet bleeding.

It rained outside.

And the man in a uniform finally, finally

closed his eyes and let it rain inside, too.

It rained, and rained, and rained.

It was morning, after all. It was mourning.

But not for long.

The world was due to turn inside out.

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