[People always talk about the world ending. Go out with signs, like that'd help. Call him a demon. It hasn't happened yet, and he hasn't stolen any souls that he knows of.]

[He closes his eyes and tips his head up. A patter of rain falls down on his face from the clear sky.]

You must've seen it on TV, like everybody. Can't turn on the news without seeing it, even after it's all over. Goddamn vultures. They give the sick son of a bitch all the attention he wants, just because of all that flashy bullshit a serial killer does. Flowers and little paper animals. Mud on the kid's face... you know what Jayden said that was supposed to mean? That it wasn't personal. "No hard feelings."

[Maybe he shouldn't be telling him this, but everybody already knew. People followed it like a goddamn circus act, and everybody thought they could do it better. A butterfly landed on his shoulder, rubbed its little butterfly legs together, and murmured, Like Jayden, who was right.]

Funny thing is how quick you get used to it.

[Cold mud seeps up around him.]

All part of the job.