The weeks had passed in a pall of sorrow and grey. Sometimes it was quite beautiful, the sombre nature of loss; other times bathtub was a fitting conclusion, a place to submerge my head beneath the water and feel my lungs palpitate with absolute frenzy. I had visitors, they ascended the stairs with a sense of self-righteousness and regurgitated notions of the warmth of the afterlife. They took my biscuits and offered advice, and in my head I liked to imagine the angels came and danced you into your grave, engrossed by their own indecency and the resonance of their own laughter. But most of all I liked to lay in bed and think about you rotting in the ground, a delicious insincerity against the warmth of the afterlife, personified in decomposing flesh and the scent of carrion. Continue reading “Infinity”