"I live free," the narrative began. "Free as only the dead can live. I admit that I enjoyed kicking in that fool’s skull, listening to the bones go snap, go crackle, go pop. Yeah, that poor jackass who got stomped last week, whose face was splinters and bloody mash. Yeah, that one: I took stole his cigarettes, not his money. It was one of those appalling random attacks that make you ask yourself, How could anybody do that to another human being? But that’s your mistake: I’m not a human being, really, not anymore. Besides, only the living wring their hands or cluck their tongues about ethics.

"That thought strikes me especially sweet right now, as I sit and write and laugh to think how many times I’ve followed you recently."

"I know you don’t remember. You didn’t see me because I didn’t want you to. Not quite yet…"