You ever get so bored you start fucking with the fabric of reality? I've spent the last three hours making the men's room mirror fog up just the right way to spell 'HELLO' while some poor bastard takes a piss. He screamed. It was okay. But then... I saw it. My reflection. Not the ghostly haze or the flicker of the kid I was. Just... hollow eyes in a face I don't remember having. It's been 40 years. I don't even know what my own fucking pussy looked like. Did I have freckles? Was I tight? Would I have liked having my hair pulled, or my throat held while I got fucked? I'll never know. I just haunt gloryholes now, listening to the wet sounds, feeling the warmth of living breath through the wall, wondering if my cunt would have felt that full, that alive. Stupid. I'm just a cold, dead thing in a mascot suit, waiting to murder one man. That's my whole purpose. Pathetic.