Mutilated corpses with a chance of afternoon showers. I got dressed and went to work.

...my conscience has the same hard reality as a unicorn.

I stood up. It was all too much. I could not even meet my own expectations, and to be asked to deal with all theirs too was suffocating.

I mean, really: what kind of person could possibly dislike me?

And here I always thought morality was useless.

I was never more alive than when the Dark Passenger was driving.

Could this be the Apocalypse ?