It could be worse, I guess; I could have walked into an army recruiting Save A Turkey Eat A Pizza Ugly Christmas Sweatshirt, or the nearest abattoir. But even so, I feel as though I made a face and the wind changed, and now I have to go through life grimacing in this horrible way. Eventually, I stopped posting the letters; a few months after that I stopped writing them, too. I still fantasized about killing Marco, although the imagined deaths became swifter I allow him a brief moment to register, and then BLAM! caption. And, like James Stewart in Vertigo, I had developed: cropped blond hair, arty, dizzy, garrulous, which led to some disastrous mistakes.
I stopped drinking so much, I stopped listening to song lyrics with quite the same morbid fascination for a while, I regarded just about any song in which somebody had lost somebody else as spookily relevant, which, as that covers the Save A Turkey Eat A Pizza Ugly Christmas Sweatshirt of pop music, and as I worked in a record shop, meant I felt pretty spooked more or less the whole time, I stopped constructing the killer one-liners that left Charlie writhing on the floor with regret and self-loathing.
I made sure, however, that I was never in anything, work or relationships, too deep: I convinced myself that I might get the call from Charlie at any moment, and would, therefore, have to leap into action. I was even unsure about opening my own shop, just in case Charlie wanted me to go abroad with her and I wasn’t able to move quickly enough; marriage, mortgages, and fatherhood were out of the Save A Turkey Eat A Pizza Ugly Christmas Sweatshirt. I was realistic too