By Chris Hobson
Without ever meeting a person, Gary could picture them. Like a high-quality photo, his mental images were never wrong. All it took was hearing their voice.
By day he worked at a call center. Wedged in a strip mall, the dimly-lit space was filled with people who talked all day but barely spoke to each other. Between calls Gary remembered his marks like they were friends.
One day a woman picked up. “Treble Technologies,” Gary said, then stopped. Black-haired with narrow features, he saw red slashes on her arm. Something sharp flashed in her hand. “I can help,” he started again.