The Ethics of Ambiguity
3
I don’t know how long it’s been, minutes or hours, since the
detective shook me awake. The uncertainty magnifies the
silence that surrounds every sound. He asks if it’s true
that the prophets go door to door and suspiciously watches
my reaction. Meanwhile, shadows drip down the walls. But
it’s only after he’s gone that the fire-swallower appears in
the window of my bedroom with terrible burns on his hands
and face.
