>>23545781
No, but I've just checked out the opening paragraphs:

>I have always thought of her face as a mistake. Always—even before I could see the world wouldn’t turn out as we’d hoped. Where was it, though? The flaw. I suppose you could just as well ask, which of her faces did I mean?
>There was, to start with, the one where she looked at you sidelong, her head tipped low and her eyes scrunched by a light pure enough to erase her. Claire was a whisper then, or only an echo of one, her face pulling away from you with a glance so slight you couldn’t be sure you weren’t imagining it. But how could you say there was anything to find fault with here? With blending into light. With admitting no edges. With looking askance even. I realized that.
>There was another face of hers. It looked at you dead on and wasn’t so far from guileless in the end. Yet something managed to spoil it, turn it feral. I suppose fear was drawn into it, the sort that has a way of inspiring the same. But how exactly? Was it the chalky skin, the way it made you feel as though merely being alive, and not some special exertion, had sent her blood into retreat? Or was it the tawny hair that went tumbling around her face, as if, moments before, something had happened, and ever since she’d been whipping her head back and forth, scanning the scene in terror? It might, though, for all anyone could know, have been as simple as the steep descent of her nose, which, even when she was stock-still, seemed to slash at the air in defiance.