I knew it was a bad idea to leave my newspaper so close to the sauna. And it seems it was my newspaper she brought in to read and to distract her so he could extend the length of her stay in the chamber.

The smell of it was making me sick. Or was it just that I knew what it could do? The dangerous formaldehyde released from that paper by the heat could easily create the tumor that will one day mean my end.

I tried to wait her out; to get some cleansing time, post-paper. But the journal gave her the power to stay.

Finally, I gave up. Riddled with mutagens, I moved on.

And to think I had supplied the bullet which killed me. Hoist on my own Evening Stand-ard.

It was nice the way she rubbed her thigh, though.