"I collected everything I could." He stares down, remembering his fingers black with newsprint. "Newspaper stories. Websites. I used to print things out at the library. And I would sit and go over them and over them, and I would get..."

Like he would die. Like his heart would burst in his chest, and blood run from his ears and eyes, if someone didn't pay. "So mad," he finishes. "I've still even got it."