Shadows of cloud lurked in the water, like holes the sun forgot about.

His soul sat up. It met me. Those kinds of souls always do - the best ones. The ones who rise up and say "I know who you are and I am ready. Not that I want to go, of course, but I will come." Those souls are always light because more of them have been put out. More of them have already found their way to other places.

Rosa Hubermann was sitting on the edge of the bed with her husband's accordion tied to her chest. Her fingers hovered above the keys. She did not move. She didn't ever appear to be breathing.

Liesel's blood had dried inside of her. It crumbled. She almost broke into pieces on the steps.

Usually we walk around constantly believing ourselves. "I'm okay" we say. "I'm alright". But sometimes the truth arrives on you and you can't get it off. That's when you realize that sometimes it isn't even an answer--it's a question. Even now, I wonder how much of my life is convinced.

for some reason, dying men always ask the question they know the answer to. perhaps it's so they can die being right.

***A Last note from your narrator*** I am haunted by humans.