Kid Cudi tightened his hands on the steering wheel.
The highway was deserted. It was close to 2am. The marijuana was fading, but still fuzzed his brain slightly.
He glanced in the rearview mirror, making sure there were no demons in the backseat.
“It’s okay, Cudi,” Kid Cudi said to himself. “You’re okay.”
He took a deep breath. It was so dark outside.
He thought about the movie. The moving tables. The dull roar of possession. The dull nightvision of the tapes. He thought about how big and empty his house is.
Kid Cudi was scared. He bit his lower lip. He should’ve brought someone to see the movie with him. But no one wanted to go.
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