January 9, 2018

“Why was it, when I thought of the man’s eventual demise, I could only ever imagine him in a box, the mess of his putrefaction contained? There were other ways, were there not? To be cast out to sea in the bathtub, a torch alight above his heart, curtains flapping around him, until finally, the smoldering weight of him sank beneath the water? Or to be chained atop the attic’s chimney, his fleshiness exposed to the birds who would peck and pick him open…”

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