I look at the screen. What have I done. Amygdala shoots, what the fuck have I done. Some sort of horror show of writing, my Necronomicon, my Book of Revelation. I hated it. Sweat drips down, big bold beads. Door knocks. Adamu. Tea. Wine. Business man trip. Wave goodbye to Raahu and Cerberus. Back to the horror on the screen.