“Here he stood. Here he sat. Here he knelt. Here he lay. Here he moved, to and fro, from the door to the window, from the window to the door; from the window to the door, from the door to the window; from the fire to the bed, from the bed to the fire; from the bed to the fire, from the fire to the bed.”

“From a Himmel Street window, he wrote, the stars set fire to my eyes.”

“But fear doesn't need doors and windows. It works from the inside.”

“I had to arrange things as well as I could. That's obviously a very bad place for the bed, in front of the door. For instance when the judge I'm painting at present comes he always comes through the door by the bed, and I've even given him a key to this door so that he can wait for me here in the studio when I'm not home. Although nowadays he usually comes early in the morning when I'm still asleep. And of course, it always wakes me up when I hear the door opened beside the bed, however fast asleep I am. If you could hear the way I curse him as he climbs over my bed in the morning you'd lose all respect for judges. I suppose I could take the key away from him but that'd only make things worse. It only takes a tiny effort to break any of the doors here off their hinges.”

“There was a knock on the bedroom door. “Matt?”Fuck. “Nope.Silence. “Would you be the owner of the leather pants?”“Yep.”She paused briefly. “I’m going to pass these through the door. You have exactly thirty seconds to pull them on, make yourself presentable and get your ass out here.”“Do I have any other options?”“Only if Matt’s got a window.”He looked at the window longingly. The thirty-six-story drop with no fire escape might be less painful, but he decided there was no avoiding it. “Understood.”

“Max lifted his head, with great sorrow and great astonishment.'There were stars,' He said. 'They burned my eyes.’...from a Himmel street window, he wrote, the stars set fire to my eyes.”