Sin Eater

I can see things that others can't. For example, right now, the guy in a suit squeezed next to me on the subway has wisps of black smoke coming out of his head, swirling like burnt plastic. The smell penetrated my nose through the mask—a sour and rotten smell mixed with anxiety, staying up late, and gastric ulcer attacks. I know, this is called "sickness". And I'm a little hungry. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.