Chapter 14: Oliver Finds His Name on an Envelope

The hallway was narrowest at the point where the skirting board had come away.

He knew this. He had always known it — had been aware of it the way you are aware of a loose tooth, the way awareness becomes a kind of orbit, circling without arriving. The gap between the board and the plaster was the width of two fingers at its widest, four inches from the floor, in the section of hallway between the bathroom door and the door that was his. Had been his. Was his. Is —

The hallway was narrowest there.