[He slumps down the wall, letting memories of sunsets meetings and four hands on the piano linger in his mind as though he could might capture and keep them, like catching a butterfly.
He wipes at his face and just spears blood everywhere in the process.]
no subject
[He slumps down the wall, letting memories of sunsets meetings and four hands on the piano linger in his mind as though he could might capture and keep them, like catching a butterfly.
He wipes at his face and just spears blood everywhere in the process.]
It always has the same ending.