Alice leaned in, and his odor of vanilla and antiseptic made her stomach churn. She squinted in the harsh light and studied his skin, every pore preternaturally clear. The ghost of a beard crossed his chin, faint stubble lines missed by his morning shave, his earlobes pink and full of blood, his hair graying. As she watched, he pinched the skin below his right eye, pulled it forward, and looked upward. On the underside of his eyeball, the tiny capillaries changed from red to the soft yellow of brass as they entered his skull.