"I am your past, your future, your dreams. i fit in between the people you see on the street, filling those alone moments that fly past your sub-conscience. i was your mother's lover when she was a teenager, i taught your father how to fight, i called your cats and dogs when you slept. i can give you freedom from your future, opening it's doors to a multitude of feelings. i will bear your kidney stones, they will pass from me in my pain, covering me in a sickening electric energy. i am the veteran who smoked your crack, lived on your pain medication until the VA clinic took them away in a puff of weed. i am the old man who's wife died in her 30's from a brain aneurysm, wracked with fear of a brain tumor, sitting up nights. i looked into your eyes late at night in the appliance section at Meijer's, we didn't speak, but you were carrying a basket filled with borsch, and tooth picks." At this point his grip on Florcus increased, the pain becoming visible in his eyes. The stranger leaned in closer to Florcus' face, almost nose to nose. "Who eats borsch in this day and age?" he said through his carved teeth.