"A part of him knew that the arc of his self-destruction was glaring obvious to his customers, who grew steadily fewer, but that same part of him basked in the knowledge that it was only a matter of time. And that was the part of him, smug in its expectation of death, that most hated the thought of Linda Lee.
He'd found her, one rainy night, in an arcade. Under bright ghosts burning through a blue haze of cigarrette smoke."
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