Mad

It’s obvious, X tells me, I have to go mad. Balls-out mad, right-round-the-bend-looney-tunes mad. I have to pass over to the other side, that’s the only sane thing to do. Absolute madness, he says, the real thing, not all this – he gestures at both of us, at the room – shit. You can be an animal, that’s what you want, isn’t it, you can practise gambolling about and slobbering. Then we can walk down the street together, totally oblivious, raving lunatics!

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