My Torin

by K. Webster

As I leave, I sense Torin. He’s watching. He’s always watching. I should warn her. But I don’t.

“He likes you.” He runs his palm over the back of his neck and regards me as if I’m some all-knowing oracle. “He looks at you, Casey. He fucking looks at you.”

Torin who disappears into walls and rattles out bizarre facts. Cocaine Casey. Two of the most abnormal people on Earth. Yet, right now, we fit in. We belong. Together, we make up something beautiful.