He always carried a pad of paper, and occasionally made notes while we talked. That used to make me nervous, but he offered to let me see his notes anytime I asked. He never wrote things like "what a freak," or "this kid is insane," just simple notes to help him remember what we talked about. I'm sure he had a "what a freak" book somewhere, but he kept it hidden.
And if he didn't have one yet, he was going to make one after this.
"I think," I said, watching his face for a reaction, "that fate wants me to become a serial killer."
He raised an eyebrow, nothing more. I told you he was calm.

Autore: Dan Wells