But he was there. I could feel it.
The most terrifying thing that summer was that with every beating, Magilla was growing stronger. His anger was becoming less predictable, his triggers more sudden and violent.
But every cloud has a silver lining, and for me, it was that I was learning about him. The bond and the connection between us had become more tangible (to say the least), and whereas at the beginning Magilla had felt like a strange, otherworldly, hazy apparition; now I felt like I was beginning to know him well.
For one thing, the image of him I carried in my mind became clearer with every beating and with every close call. Such as the country music playing in the Thai restaurant. I walked in, heard the twang of the steel guitar, and immediately turned around and walked back ou
