Still, he is just a shadow of his former self. What a handsome man he was back in the day! Up until his mid-forties he stayed in excellent shape. Then he moved to the countryside and fell apart. I’m not saying I didn’t have a hand in it, but at the end of the day everything was his own decision. I only offer him opportunities to divert from the path he originally planned to take, and of course I occasionally put an obstacle in his way. Nothing he couldn’t overcome if he truly put his heart into it.

The table is covered with bills. Two months of gas, flat rate for water, a semi-annual fee for trash, and the next installment on the mortgage. Csaba doesn’t even look at them. He can’t, his stomach cramps at just the thought of them. Every bill represents failure, missed opportunities, a wasted life.

He puts on his Manowar T-shirt. It’s a superstition he’s been trying to get rid of, but somehow he thinks it will bring him luck. It was given to him by Joey DeMaio before the ’94 concert at Petőfi Stadium in Budapest. He only wears it once or twice a year so it doesn’t get worn out. He’s not even a big Manowar fan. Still, it’s a good luck charm.

He heads to the welfare office and I’m left alone. I could go with him, but I know how it will go, and it breaks my heart. Now I’m bored. It’s a shame that out of all places he moved to Kál. People only come here to complain about life, then die. In Budapest I could at least always find a church playing a cantata or a fugue. There’s nothing here, only a couple of pubs and a post office.

He starts drinking at two. The extra-cheap beer is on sale at the shop. He’s bought a dozen cans. I’m sitting next to him. His hands are shaking, a Fecske cigarillo is burning between his fingers. I hate the smell of it, it reminds me of hell. He used to smoke Marlboros, but these are infinitely cheaper.

I feel it’s time to try it again. I touch his hand with my claws and he looks at me.

‘Again?’ he asks. His voice is genuinely annoyed. ‘When will you leave me alone once and for all?’

I grin. I don’t want to, but it’s the custom of my trade. It makes me look more evil, I assume. A few worms fall out from between my teeth. I hate that part, but I can’t do anything about it. Worms are part of my nature.

‘Join,’ I implore him. He already knows what it’s all about.

He takes a sip from his beer.

‘Go fuck yourself,’ he says in a raspy voice. ‘I’ve had enough of you and your bullshit.’