It is not my place to ask how it shall be done. There is alcohol in the bar, sleeping pills in the cabinet, the old revolver in its wooden case buried at the back of the closet; even a silk tie may bear weight if its knot is tied tight. I do not dwell on the respective properties of these things nor which, come the moment, may seem most suitable to a grieving mind. It is his to choose and I will never know the outcome of that choice unless there truly exists a god cruel enough to condemn us to an afterlife. For both our sakes, I hope that isn’t the case.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s