The Thief of Always: A Fable

by Clive Barker

Harvey had climbed the porch steps by now, and stopped in front of the open door. This was a moment of decision, he knew, though he wasn’t quite certain why.

‘It’s perfect!’ Harvey murmured to himself. Mrs Griffin caught his words. ‘Nothing’s perfect,’ she replied. ‘Why not?’ ‘Because time passes,’ she want on, staring down at the flowers she’d cut. ‘And the beetle and the worm find their way into everything sooner or later.’

But gone is gone, Harvey Swick!’

Tears started to cloud his eyes. He wiped them away with his fists. They were both useless, fists and tears.