the last favor you'll do is the burning. he'll stand there as if beckoning the fire over and unafraid, but you know better. he wants this, is what you will tell yourself. you will serve the plates among the feast he will walk on and he will love you forever.
this is where you conceive the hate. eighteen years that you had been with him, and this is your new theater; his final meant breath, and not only for you.
