Hiding Out

I've been stuck in this swamp for months. No a.c. No human contact. And all the alligator threats I can deal with.

That's the problem with doing what I do. You start to rack up a portfolio, you do good work, and many more people than you ever believed existed in your underbelly of the world suddenly know your name, and for one reason or another are after you; be it to employ you, or kill you because you bumped off someone near and dear to them.

To those on the vengeance trail I say, take a number.

I like that there's no people, but it seems to loosen my grip on their instincts. I can't watch them walk, eat, or think. I can't study them, know them inside and out, and predict a human's next move.

I stopped being human a long time ago.