I do not love mankind. People think they're interesting. That's their first mistake.

They talk about me in this town. I have passed into legend, even though I'm still around in flesh. Who would have thought? people say to each other. Now, when I walk past the windows of the library, into stores, along the beach, I am discussed. I know the sound; I heard it enough with James. See that woman? they say. I am a figure they imagine knocking on their doors, to test them. They don't know what they should do to pass the test: let me in to sit by the radiator, or send me down the sidewalk to bewitch another house. They anticipte me at any moment, thrilled with the possibilities.