"Three of hearts," the demon says. He's lounging on Joseph's bed, deck of cards in his hands and shirt riding up over his stomach. He glances up, fangs flashing in a bright grin as if he can feel ... [+]
It had been nearly fourteen years, but there you were on my morning commute. On your way to work like nothing had happened. Both of us on our ways to work as if nothing had happened. You looked good. Older, sure, hair starting to thin. But I could see the remnants of your tan, summer, teenage self, even now: your long limbs still slender under work clothes, the same dark eyes. I'd never seen you in a suit before. We were children then, not enough a part of each other's families to tag along to weddings or funerals, or even to church. It made you look—please forgive me—a little nerdy, and in