Frost bite is real. James and I were burying a body last night and it took longer than expected. By the time we got back in the car, I could not feel my fingers. My right ring finger is still kind of numb. I worry that I genuinely have minor frost bite. But it was worth it. That guy was a jerk. You live on a major road; shovel your damn sidewalk.
In any case, it’s made typing really hard.
It’s also made me think about burning my fingerprints off. I’ve thought about it over the years, discussed it with James. Ultimately, we decided it would be more conspicuous if I had scars on my fingers. Another “rare” example of making sacrifices to sustain my other life – my better life.
I hate my day job. I am happiest when I am killing but I’ve talked about why I can’t do that for a living so I suffer through.
I wonder if there’s something else I could be doing that still brings me joy. Something that allows me to find new victims but remain hidden.
If you have any thoughts, please feel free to share them.
As always, dear readers,