the smuggler’s bible


There are somewhere between fourteen and nineteen doors visible from the seating area of the waiting room, depending on if Engel counts from the right or the left. The nature of the discrepancy remains mysterious. He suspects he might even have entered by one of the doors, but they all look so similar.

“Engel,” a voice says. A door opens somewhere behind and to his left. He hears it close as he turns. “Engel.” Again behind him, shut too fast.

He sits to wait. Fine, he thinks. Sure, I’ll play. As long as you take my insurance in the end.