The kid had the name of another man tattooed over his heart-- literally, and had already attracted the attentions of someone new. Curtis felt like a thief. But that was really no different than any other day. And Gilliam was right, it would've been better with two arms. Two hands. He felt off balance and clumsy, but that couldn't be blamed entirely on his arm.

But whatever guilt he felt, whatever uncertainty, was quickly drowned out by greed. By the need to feel skin against his, their clothes becoming an increasing annoyance. If he tried hard enough, he could convince himself that he could take this, this one fucking thing for himself, just once.