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The real Book of Confessions.
To read, or not to read, that is the question.
Me and this boy?
Friends till the end.
The beginning of the end for Malcolm the cockroach…
or so I thought.
“Let’s have a threesome, baby.
You, me—
and my imagination.”

This prick didn’t deserve you—
never did.
Aunt Elena always loved a good crime novel.
True crime?
Not so much.

If we were a tarot card, darling.
Yet, I don’t look convinced.
Yes, this is more like it.
No fool like an old fool.
Thankfully, Poe cares
unconditionally.

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