The notebook weighs three pounds, four ounces. Same as a human brain. I looked that up at 3 AM once, drunk on Malbec and metaphor.

Blue ink bleeds through pages like veins under pale skin. The Moleskine's spine snapped six months ago. Medical tape holds it together now, stolen from Exhibit A's jacket pocket while he explained how human tissue separates under pressure.

Halloween. Outside: staged murders for fun. Inside: my apartment reeks of burnt microwave popcorn and the vanilla Febreze that can'...