Say, can you hand me that saw? I have to cut this leg out from under me. Won't take me a minute. This part of me is rotten; anyone can tell. Anyone who reads, at least. Yes, you can watch. I'm not going to make a big fuss. Done that already.

I'm hoping to slide gracefully to the floor without too many people noticing. Don't want my underwear to show or anything. I've already humiliated myself and the evidence is everywhere. I hope I don't cry. You can laugh if I do.

Do you need an extra piece of dead wood?

In the dark, physically and emotionally. The words on the screen are shocking to me. But that was another time, long gone and actually it was only yesterday. The temperature was 95 then. The temperature is 95 now. Well, close. I was buried in bank statements. I am buried in bank statements. She was maddening then. She is...oh, oh. See, you really can't continue these parallels. We, who were so close, we huddled in fear of yet another beating, we are veering apart, shooting away in our anger and grief. Will I know your old face when I happen upon it years from now? Why yes. That's you. I recognize the scar. Look here, I have one to match.