Inside the apartment are plenty of shadows and collectable ceramic thingies, Godzilla toys and silence. Flipping the lights on only makes the place into even more hollow of a shell than it first seemed. The newspaper laying in wait on the table contains a charming story about a child’s cadaver in South Africa. It was noted that there was movement in the belly, and when they cut it open a huge mass of worms burst out. Apparently kids die of parasites over there all the time.
Hairs: stand at attention. Microscopic organisms lurk in every corner. Report suspicious activity.
Between unsettling medical fantasies and scrubbing my hands I almost don’t notice the handwritten letter on the kitchen counter. It’s addressed to me.
“Hey, honey?” No response.
Walking to the bedroom and bathroom fai
