A man sits at a table, a coffee in either hand. Every so often, he sips from one or the other. In between sips, his mouth is moving. Someone observing from a far would think the man was crazy, but up close… They would know he was.

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“I don’t understand it,” Leonard whined, taking a sip of the coffee in his right hand. “Why did the Dark pick me to be infested with hellspawn.”

“Hey, don’t ask me,” a second, distinctive voice spoke from Leonard’s mouth. “We’ve been over this literally 73,000 times. Happy 200th year of possession, BTW.” The body took a sip out of the left cup.

“And that’s the other thing. He won’t even allow us to die, to get this over with.”

" ‘Course not. He knew one or the other of us would end up killing this body just to stop this feeling of being in somebody else’s underpants."

Leonard turned his head, and noticed a mother of three, children in tow, staring at him fearfully by the door to the coffee shop. He smiled feebly, and she fled through the door, panic visible on her face.