The mirror cracked at 3:17 AM on a Thursday, and Arthur Morgan knew, with the certainty of a man who has spent twenty years studying the architecture of madness, that something had broken that could not be repaired.
He was thirty-eight, attending physician in the psychiatry ward of Manhattan General Hospital, and for the past six months he had been experiencing what the medical literature called "dissociative episodes." In plain English: he was losing time. Hours would slip away like water through fingers, and he would find himself somewhere he did not remember going, doing things he did not remember...
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