Death returned friendly and controlling pushed me into the black sand at dusk its foot on my forehead deciding what we would eat that night and not asking if I had any preferences Death got home annoyed and careless as a brace of pheasants dangling in the frosted air it was good enough for them so it was good enough for me and Death did not offer me a blanket because they were not cold Death came cheerful with unexpected fondness mixing just enough sugar water for me to drink and I lived on the memory of its sweetness long after the supplies ran out
Featured photo by Jeremy Bishop on Unsplash.
