He has found a new home. A place where he can reach out and 'touch' someone. But his touch is deadly. And surprisingly, he doesn't have to physically touch you. He knows -- it all begins in thought -- "Am I losing my mind? How old does someone have to be to lose their mind? Is this how it starts?" Charlie wasn't totally insulated from the world at large. He had heard the news reports. He had seen the newspaper headlines or full-color magazine covers. They were always full of killings, of terrorists, of people who kind of went crazy like some hidden switch had been thrown within them, culminating in atrocities and actions that neighbors never recognized - acts that friends and loved ones had never had a clue were in hiding, in waiting. "He always seemed like a nice guy." "His kids played with mine." "He was always such a quiet guy in the office," So, what caused these apparently 'normal' people to suddenly jump into the deep end? >"I'm not one of those kinds of people, am I?" The truth is that everyone -- with the appropriate inducement -- is that kind of person. And he was counting on it.
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