I am out? Out of what? Oh yes, that room. The moon hangs yet a sliver in the sky. I am thinking? I think; here now, let’s hear what I think. The moon. It’s almost gone now and my body will be mine and my mind will be mine. Mine alone. And then I————Mother’s uncle. What was that just now? Something just tore through my body like boiling water searing through my veins, a nail driven slowly through my skull; and then I stopped thinking. I’m—— I just disappeared. But… I am here. Who was that other me? My brain hurts, and my body. Are these separate? Where am I? Did I fall? The moon, a sliver just… no… I am standing again. Not now? I’m confused. I can barely feel the cold concrete beneath my feet. It’s wet. By the smell of it, it must have just stopped raining. Night. Yes, always at night. I can’t remember the sun. Yes I can. I saw it this morning. Am I thinking again? Never stopped.
The street is empty, but somewhere down in some basement I can hear music escaping into the still night air. I'm going there. To that room? Stuffy and full of tobacco smoke and the stench of alcohol, and sweat, and lust, and--why am I going there? Down the stairs. How easy that was. Nobody has noticed me. Of course not, it’s dim in here. Loud, so loud. When did I walk over here near the stage? There is something heavy in my hand. A pistol? Nobody’s noticed. That man playing the trumpet? Somebody notice. Notice. I have a pistol aimed at that man. Somebody notice! The trigger has already been pulled. The man staggers back, his trumpet clutched tight in his hand. The fools in the room that failed to notice a corpse walking amongst them—a hand raised to kill—wail and scream and run about in a mad panic, trampling each other as they flee. A demon, devil, monster, I hear some shriek. The trumpeter stares at me in disbelief for a moment. The blood stain on his chest grows larger every moment, then he crumples to the floor. I killed him, but the fear in his eyes was not fear of death, nor of me, but of becoming like me. More screaming. I am outside again. A siren blares in the distance. It’s too late. The man is already gone. It is too late. I am already gone.