He writes his death with hurried hand how quickly the end must come. Periods for only the pauses of breath, I hurriedly string my words together. No time for description, I cannot wait. For the scene I give a lax expression. I want it now, we all must stand, around the waiting hole. Does it matter what flowers are around the word eater we all can see? No it doesn’t, I do not pause, I write the ending well.




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