“The studio felt different after weeks away, as if someone had taken the familiar shape of the room and rotated it a few degrees off its axis. The lights were the same, the smell of warm dust and old carpet the same, the slow throb of the consoles waiting to be used – all identical, all unchanged. And yet I couldn’t shake the sense that I was moving through an imitation of my life rather than the real thing, a replica built overnight while I wasn’t looking.”
Categories: Long Stories