20
- 20 -
Rodin found himself back in his room. He threw off his boots and jacket, then stepped into the shower, peeling off his clothes as the water cascaded down. A swirl of red disappearing down the hole.
Not his blood. There was not a scratch on him.
He dried himself, leaving the clothes in a heap. Wearing only his shorts, he turned his attention to his jacket and boots.
This was stuff he could do. This was stuff he could lose himself in.
The boots needed serious cleaning. He removed the laces, filled a sink and let them soak. More red swirls. Then he used a cloth to wipe off the boots themselves. The worst, the larger clumps of flesh and blood, had come off as he walked, but too much still remained.
Rodin had killed a man. The man was scum. The man had tried killing Rodin. If t
