He looks at me. He’s lying on his back with his arms under his head, his feet crossed at the ankles. I’m sitting up beside him with my arms wrapped around my knees, listening raptly to every word.
“Sayori once told me there are only two cities in the world where a person can really disappear. Where someone can go and become anyone else he wants to be, arrive invisible and stay that way, no matter how long he lives there. New York and Las Vegas.” He looks out the windows again. “At least New York has a soul. It’s a tough soul, pretty unforgiving, but it has one. Vegas is where souls go to die. It’s a f*****g graveyard of souls, that city.”
I remember all those “facts” I read about him on Wikipedia. “So all that stuff about you on the internet, your bio and everything, that’s all made up.”
