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You never really know do you? It hit home for me last night--the sheer instability of a quiet suburban street; the mothers and sons and husbands who might one day go completely ape-shit and start collecting body parts. The bones already buried in backyards. The knitting needles and sewing scissors, the axes, the kitchen knives.

Ordinary people are capable of the most bizarre atrocities imaginable, no matter how boringly innocuous they seem.

I was walking through the park at midnight. I ran home, flinching at every passing station wagon, every darkened window.

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