Outside I suck the metallic air and cross the half-empty parking lot. The biggest companies always have the emptiest parking lots.

I dug a little hole for myself in this world. I drink poison in a dirty kitchen. The light bulbs, too, are full of bright poison. It's fun to poison myself on a blue-green afternoon in the aftermath of empty parking lots. I can still smell the damp carpets of the office towers. Or maybe that is the smell of poison rising inside me.

I'll put on my raincoat an hour before dusk and patrol my network of private toll roads. All the office towers in the distance are prettier than the stars.