The Hidden Island
My name is John. An ordinary name, and it fits, because I’m an ordinary guy. I’m fifty-seven, short, and not particularly well-built, I have thinning hair, a weak chin, and ears that kind of stick out. I’m not exactly ugly, I just have the kind of face you don’t remember two minutes after you see it. I’m a corporate accountant, which is every bit as dull as it sounds. I drive a twelve-year-old Toyota, and I live in a small one-bedroom apartment. I have no close friends, no brothers or...