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He
shrugs
and
goes
on
scrubbing
at
his
hands
.
"
It
’
s
the
edge
,
"
he
says
.
"
The
edge
of
what
?
"
"
Everything
.
"
His
expression
suggests
that
this
much
is
obvious
.
"
I
thought
you
only
turned
up
in
my
dreams
,
"
I
say
,
casually
glancing
at
his
hands
.
There
is
something
wrong
with
them
;
however
much
filth
Jimmy
scrubs
off
,
there
is
more
underneath
.
The
basin
is
splattered
with
the
stuff
.
"
Well
,
that
’
s
one
way
of
putting
it
,
pal
.
Dreams
,
high
stress
hallucinations
,
or
just
wrecking
your
own
head
like
this
.
It
’
s
all
the
edge
,
see
.
The
cracks
down
the
sides
of
reality
.
Where
stupid
bastards
like
me
end
up
.
"
"
Jimmy
,
you
’
re
dead
.
I
’
m
getting
tired
of
telling
you
that
.
"
"
Uhuh
.
"
He
shakes
his
head
.
"
But
you
got
to
get
right
down
in
those
cracks
to
access
me
.
"
The
soup
of
blood
and
soil
in
the
basin
is
thinning
out
and
I
know
suddenly
that
when
it
is
gone
,
Jimmy
will
be
too
.
"
You
’
re
saying
—
"
