Excerpt from audiobook narration
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North American (General)Transcript
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now how simple it is to imagine the reactions of the evening clerk coming on for the night shift, made inquisitive by the alluring odor intrepid she follows not by the mechanics of an elevator, but keys in hand by the stairs, more powerful that each stride grows. The bouquet incongruous and anachronistic, curious and rot with prediction. Ah, foot path through the wilderness. Maeda's clear is a paved road. I cannot distinguish her footsteps from my own beating heart. I hear her now, just outside the ingress, palpably anticipating. She knocks thumps, bangs beats on the door, or is it merely the thud oven overwrought pulse.