As Stacy was rendering Felton Noble in shades of charcoal, a white male in his late 20s, with sideburns and a slightly pudgy, generous face closed the door to the apartment he had been living in for the past two weeks. He would miss it, he told himself, but he always told himself that when he was leaving and it wasn’t ever true.

Felton Noble went to the refrigerator first, and opened the freezer door with his right hand as his left hand reached into the pocket and removed the memento. He wondered if the police had noticed it missing, or if the medical examiner would.

This wasn’t the thing that would have disturbed Stacy Wenders or Garret McClean. The pair had seen more than a fair share of horror, in person or through Stacy’s third eye. This simple series of acts is what Wenders or McClean would have found terrible beyond words: