As I stepped back into the ordinary street, the sting on my thigh faded entirely. But I swear I felt a faint pressure on my shoulder blade—as if someone, somewhere, was sharpening a pencil and deciding where to begin.
And indeed, looking closely, you see the grain of the paper is bruised—pressed so hard in places that the fibers have split. The drawing is a scar. Droo-cynthia-visits-the-spankers-drawings-gallery-153-23
He gestured toward the first piece.