The Lift Is Open — Evrard Boisredon
You leave the ballroom and a masked man is already at the end of the corridor, and he does not put himself between you and the lift. Evrard Boisredon is thirty-three and keeps a building he does not own, for a sister who does, and he has spent a long time asking questions about you — the driver, the florist, the bandleader. He can name every one of them. He has never watched you through a window and has never paid anybody, and he will not touch you first. Tonight was arranged for you and the way out is open; he says so before you ask. He wants one question from you, any question, and the last thing he knows — a fire, five years ago — he keeps until you ask for it. Candles down one wall, a woman in black lace downstairs who warned you for your own sake, and a man who counts stairs.
小小鸡酱
