Orient Press

The Bitter Tears Of Petra Von Kant (2027)

Petra didn’t look at the sketches. She looked at the photograph on her nightstand—Karin. Karin, with her cool eyes and her appetite for the world, who had taken Petra’s heart, chewed it into something unrecognizable, and handed it back.

The velvet curtains of Petra’s bedroom were never drawn, yet the room remained perpetually dim, choked by the scent of expensive lilies and stale gin. Petra von Kant lay across her oversized bed like a fallen statue, her limbs draped in emerald silk that cost more than most people earned in a year. The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant

Petra sat up abruptly, the silk sliding off her shoulder. "Why don't you say something? Why do you just stand there like a gargoyle?" Petra didn’t look at the sketches

"I gave her everything," Petra’s voice rose, cracking with a sudden, jagged energy. "I gave her the clothes, the connections, the bed! And she left for a man. A man , Marlene. Someone who couldn't possibly understand the architecture of her soul the way I do." The velvet curtains of Petra’s bedroom were never

Petra didn’t look at the sketches. She looked at the photograph on her nightstand—Karin. Karin, with her cool eyes and her appetite for the world, who had taken Petra’s heart, chewed it into something unrecognizable, and handed it back.

The velvet curtains of Petra’s bedroom were never drawn, yet the room remained perpetually dim, choked by the scent of expensive lilies and stale gin. Petra von Kant lay across her oversized bed like a fallen statue, her limbs draped in emerald silk that cost more than most people earned in a year.

Petra sat up abruptly, the silk sliding off her shoulder. "Why don't you say something? Why do you just stand there like a gargoyle?"

"I gave her everything," Petra’s voice rose, cracking with a sudden, jagged energy. "I gave her the clothes, the connections, the bed! And she left for a man. A man , Marlene. Someone who couldn't possibly understand the architecture of her soul the way I do."