They were trying to catch my eye as I hurried past an old tree, the abandoned pencil factory, and what was rumored to be a statue of Dr. Mengele. I’ve always marveled at how effective and disgusting the killing angels are. One even grabbed my arm. Time stopped being money and started being war-torn countries. “I’m the person you’re looking for,” he said, his voice oddly apologetic. I’m not really into cosmic things, but it’s like you don’t have a choice. That’s the whole situation upstairs. The King of Angels threw kisses to the audience from the stage, the audience clapping insanely.
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A Foray into Metaphysics
