Joseph was a man forced to breath in the city. Working it by day to survive in its intricate whorls of tiled floors and flattened plush carpets. He maneuvered with arms flailing, legs kicking, mouth sucking in air and he did it just well enough.

Sometimes he'd run into his brother. Devin was never alone. He'd bring along the ghosts of people they'd known and hated, known and tried desperately to love. And at night, Joseph would wonder about things, brought them to life, and then want to paint over the images.

Satan sometimes watched him and laughed, hidden in the pink corner of his eye.