He might have stayed a long time, maybe forever, or maybe until the carcasses had rotted away, or until the bones had moldered and fallen into dust; more probably, until the cops came in and found him and dragged him before a judge and jury; more likely still, before a doctor, a quack, a slave to the same sins that these things no longer served, the same twisted sexual ideology that ran the city, making beauty ugly. Well, he could make things ugly too; the grotesque was part of beauty: a tableau of viscera, red passion and laughing, lipless teeth.
Justice & Mercy: A Pause
Tale Told 