The narrator of “You’ve Got to be Vigilant, Wes” is constantly on the edge of committing murder. It’s strange and funny and clever, with unexpected depth.

When I’m waiting for a subway, I think about pushing other passengers onto the tracks. I stand with my back against the wall until the train pulls in and distract myself by watching people’s feet.

When I’m on a balcony I think I’m going to throw someone off. I actually imagine exactly how to do it. I picture getting them to lean over a bit first, maybe point out a cat on a lower roof, or a woman throwing a vase at her daughter.

If I’m cutting a lime, I hold onto the knife tightly to make sure I don’t accidentally stab my boyfriend through the heart.