She closes the door completely, and I crouch there. I allow myself to fall forward and rest my head on the door frame. My breath bleeds. My heartbeat drowns my ears.

You don't shoot a dog when it is already dead.

And I stop listening to me, because to put it bluntly, I tire me.

We both laugh and run and the moment is so thick around me that i feel like dropping into it to let it carry me.

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.

The orange flames waved at the crowd as paper and print dissolved inside them. Burning words were torn from their sentences.

A book floated down the Amper River. A boy jumped in, caught up to it, and held it in his right hand. He grinned. He stood waist-deep in the icy, Decemberish water. “How about a kiss, Saumensch?” he said.