Micah River has always known what things are. A noise in the pipes, a smell in the hall, a scary shape in his daughter's dresser: he looks once, and he knows. It's what makes him good at his job, and it's what his kids love most about him.
Then a man on the N train grabs his stomach, and Micah decides, in one certain second, what's moving under his shirt.
He's right. He's always right. And that's the problem.
His son falls in the dark and the cut becomes what Micah fears it is. The hallway of his Astoria walk-up stretches toward a door that was never there. And one sleepless night, staring at a jacket on a hook, he sees the one person he's been trying not to want, standing in a doorway, saying his name.
Now Micah can't trust the one thing he's never doubted: his own eyes. Every shadow is a choice. Every person he loves is one careless look away from becoming something else.
