A Familiar Face I Have Never Seen - An Inventory of Small Failures #991603

The refrigerator makes a sound it should not make. A piece of paper appears from under the floor. A mousetrap disappears from a locked room. This is not a story with a beginning or an end. It is an inventory of a quiet apartment where the floor breathes a cold draft and the lock on the door is a liar. It is a record of a thought at 1:43 a.m. A collection of fragments held together by the shape of a missing crayon, the taste of metal, and the weight of a photograph of a man who is both a stranger and a mirror. This is a book about what happens when the quiet gets too loud.