He was incapable of love or mercy.. or hate. And he certainly never felt the lack. He was almost pure thought. He was just doing what he had to do—looking for the right body to play host to him. Once he found it and moved in, he would execute one...
ESTABA TENDIDO en mi cama esa noche con una costilla rota y un trombón roto. La costilla sanaría, pero no el trombón, según decidí.
A ambos los había roto la noche anterior, bajando las escaleras, en camino a una...