The vale let Yasin go, but it did n't let him leave. He understood this before the road uncurled, before the city’s lights appeared like a slip of dull stars against the horizon. He understood it in the way the silence followed him, not empty but attentive, as though commodity had learned the shape of his absence and was curious how far it might stretch. He drove through the thinning dark with the window cracked open, demanding the cool air to anchor him. Dawn crept in cautiously, a pale marshland that softened the world without relatively forgiving it. Every familiar corner felt subtly altered, as if he were seeing it through a