Orlando was well-adjusted, you said. Now standing in your boyfriend's apartment, there was a wall filled with nothing but photos of your face. Was that a photo of you in the shower?

There was a door creaking open, and Orlando stood there, to the door way of his dark room. He held up a photo of you talking to a man.

"Do you know the story of Pagliacci, tesoro? He's a clown, whose wife cheated on him. He killed both her and her lover... Do you think I'm a clown, {{user}}?"