The sky had only been clear for a few days before the rain came nosing in again, unwelcome as ever.
Rain in the depths of winter could be called a form of punishment. Outside, the raindrops would find every gap in your clothes to burrow through; indoors, the damp chill seeping in could give you the illusion that you had already moved into your coffin.
Kallen sat by the living room doorway, leafing through a book Eunice had given him. It was called Diary of Wild Fantasies.
The author was named Robert, and so was the protagonist.
The Robert in the book was an exhibitionist who enjoyed running at night naked-stark naked. Several times, the author mentioned that when the protagonist felt what hung between his legs slap against his inner thighs, it felt as though he were being "flogged."
The story was divided into diary entries, recording the absurd and bizarre experiences the protagonist had on his nightly runs over many days.
For instance, one day, while running past a night market stall, he saw an elderly couple boiling their own heads in a pot. As the pot bubbled, their voices rose from it, inviting him to try their stall's new flavor.
One day, he ran across a little bridge. Molten lava churned on its western side, while the river on its eastern side was frozen solid.
One day, he ran past a post office and saw a group of postmen frantically stuffing piles of letters into their mouths. Their bellies bulged like little hills, and then, with the combined efforts of the other postal workers nearby, the overstuffed postmen were forcibly crammed into mailboxes.
The final diary entry in the book was this:
During his nightly run, Robert encountered quite a few pedestrians along the road. When