Sublime

Smells of dirt and wet and long-gone vegetables would merge into one unmistakable ineluctable smell, the smell of the monster, the apotheosis of all monsters. It was the smell of something for which he had no name: the smell of It, crouched and lurking and ready to spring. A creature which would eat anything but which was especially hungry for boym

meaner. That morning, he’d brought me into the station, placed his thick hands on my shoulders. “This is my boy,” he said. “Your old man’s a hard-ass, kid,” said another detective. “Are you a hard-ass, too?” I shrugged. They laughed. “Send him down to Vice,” another detective said. “Pop his cherry.” They wore suits and fedoras and smoked cigarettes

tryst.

watching bored teenage jerk-offs hack apart someone you used to love. Even if she was dead. He wasn’t without empathy, but he was still young, and the pain of other people embarrassed him.