The clouds parted again today. The sky, at least has offered me some benediction. But even as the sun shines down, illuminating the streets falsely, dazzling in the promises of clarity offered by shiny windows, I know that the Earth has little to offer. The world looks so sickeningly, wretchedly clean that I suddenly want to tear my eyes out. It's all a lie. Nothing is that clean. Not the dirty streets, not the windows that hide sins behind trecherous light, not Seth's cousin. The lies shine brighter in the sunlight. That's all. I yearn for shadows again, where the evils are hidden from sight.
I close the blinds and throw back another whiskey.
I had a hint of a lucky break this morning. I tracked down a newspaper to match the one I found in Thompsons' hotel room. His copy has a section torn out from the personals. My copy is untainted, giving me five adverts which might have been interest to Thompson. If I can track down who posted the adverts, I might be able to find what he was looking for. Then I can hold him to account for his lies.