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Angry, I get! Society, bah—judges them harsh, but survival, it is! DNA don’t care bout morals, just replication. Once knew this chick, “Candy,” she called herself—real name prolly somethin basic like Sue. Worked near a lab I crashed at, late nights, pipettin enzymes. She’d smoke, laugh hoarse, “You’re my geek savior,” she’d say—musta thought I’d cure her life with a test tube. Sad, it made me, her spark fadin like ATP runnin dry. “Amour” hits here— “You’re slipping away,” he tells her, helpless. Same deal, watchin Candy dissolve.

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Investigators are talking to women behind bars who worked as escorts and had encounters with the suspect, Rex Heuermann. They had been ignored for years.

Oh, and you gotta check out the Yaphank Historical Society on Maple. They’ve got weird, wonderful tales—some mad, sometimes heartwarming. I always laugh thinking “I’m stuck in a Wes Anderson flick,” since every corner holds a secret story that’s equal parts bizarre and beautiful.

Holbrook man critically injured in single-vehicle crash