She lived in a single room so broad and deep that its far reaches were lost to an inverse horizon, the floor hidden by the curvature of the spindle. The ceiling was low and irregular, done in the same imitation stone that walled the corridor. Here and there across the floor were jagged sections of wall, waist-high reminders of the labyrinth. There was a rectangular turquoise pool centred ten metres from the foot of the stairway, its underwater floods the apartment’s only source of light – or it seemed that way, to Case, as Molly took her final step. The pool threw shifting blobs of light
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