I buried him at the base of a mountain. A private waterfall, red-breasted birds, and 10,000 trees standing in a semi-circle—a modest reception. I'd been unable to speak his language and so, in frustration, I fed him tranquilizers and whiskey, coaxed him into bed with my one good eye, suffocated his flawless face under a silk pillow—heaving, tears, gasping and flailing—and then set fire to the mattress.
It was the prettiest fireworks display I'd ever seen.
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