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was able to discern karma making its long gradual rotations through all things, he would say these wise, wise words to himself: And the wheel turns.
                  It was always disturbing to Jeremy when he could glimpse past the mask of madness that obscured his brother’s true face. How alike would they have been if not for the mental illness? Throughout his whole life he’d wondered if one day he too might fall ill.
                  He felt something cold on his cheek and realized he had begun to cry. Wiping the tears away with the back of his hand he realized he couldn’t hear the music in the parking lot anymore. The car full of kids was gone, his coffee cold. 
                  He started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, unaware that the wheel really had, in fact, begun to turn.

CHAPTER 5
     
    Mary was always late. And that was okay because everyone knew it, and had even come to expect it from her. So it was as though she wasn’t actually late at all in their minds, when she’d come into a meeting 20 minutes in. She had her own time zone—Central Mary Standard Time, or whatever. But this time, by even her own standards she was late.
                  Careful not to twist an ankle, she click-clacked her heels as fast as she could down the hall towards her office. Her assistant Erin met her at the door, the way a Chihuahua with separation anxiety might greet its owner after they had been away for the weekend.
                  “You’re…”
                  “—late, I know. Has he been here long?”
                  “About an hour.”
                  “Shit, okay. I’ll make it up to him. Get together a bag a merch for him.”
                  The tiny office just outside of West Hollywood was the home of Rue Morgue Magazine, a monthly horror genre mag, and it was decorated as such.
    A framed and autographed picture of the late Bela Lugosi hung proudly on the wall by the front door. It was a promotional photo from the Dracula movie shot in 1930 by Universal Studios. In it, Mr. Lugosi is wearing the high collared black cape which he came to establish as a mainstay of the character’s wardrobe for many years to come. His hair slicked back, his hungry intense eyes accentuated with a perfectly lit swath of light, his regal gentlemanly demeanour offset by a single drop of blood hanging incriminatingly from the corner of his thin lipped mouth.
                  Although only a blown-up copy of the original, the picture was still very old by movie memorabilia standards. Mr. Lugosi was far from the only classic horror star who stood sentinel over the small offices. Next to Bela was Boris Karloff the master of horror himself, also from the golden age of the genre, who had immortalized such classic characters as Frankenstein and the Mummy.
    Across the room from Mr. Lugosi and Mr. Karloff hung the visage of the iconic Vincent Price. The elegant villain and one of the few American-born horror stars of the classic era. Even Lon Chaney Jr. dressed up as the Wolf Man was amongst this group. A long time ago someone had signed it: Love and kisses, Wolf Man. The joke around the office was that they actually hired a werewolf for the role who they’d taught to act like a human for interviews.
                  Of course many readers of the magazine didn’t even know who these fine actors were. The rest of the offices were decorated with props and memorabilia the predominantly younger readership would have much less difficulty recognizing. There were stills from the set of movies featuring kung-fu fighting vampires, an encased goalie mask, a poster of Jack Nicholson jamming his face into the axed shaft of a hotel bathroom door. And near the front door was a mannequin of Edward Scissorhands sporting the actual hedge-trimming digits used in the movie.
                  All this made the