I know it in my bones. He was looking for me, specifically; maybe he even went to TrueCrimeCon to meet me. He had found me sitting there, that empty seat next to me, and introduced himself. Handed me his card. Then he came here and gave me a taste of what he knew I wanted: someone to listen, someone to understand. Someone to care. It was only a bite, though. Only enough to satisfy the craving. And then he threatened to go, leaving me desperate: a junky in need of just one more fix, so I had offered my home to make him stay.
