He shook with small blades of grass for a millisecond, like he was slow dancing with a dream. Our eyes locked misty-white, vacant. When I got to him a red-tinged hue of departure had already taken him. I pulled a tattered letter from his fingers, the one he asked me to read before fratricide cut him to his core. His woman moved like myth: I decided I loved her. I would find her, to love her like he did. The night hovered cold again, the distant clanking of disgruntled bodies in C […]