There was something deranged and distinctly midwestern about a station that programmed “The Exorcist” three days prior to Christmas.

The girl was holding out her hand, but I could only give a pathetic shrug. I had nothing to give her. I’d finally faded away.

It was Brian’s blood, and for some reason I knew it was pure. No other man I’d held in my arms -and now, not even I- had blood this pure.

Defenestration,” I said. “’The act of throwing someone through a window.

His voice sounded vaguely grandfather like, as if his brain were crowded with knowledge!

The room was darker and smelled of evergreen, as though my mother had been dreaming of trees.

He spoke so slowly, cobwebs could have formed between his words.

It was a light that shone over our faces, our wounds and scars. It was a light so brilliant and white it could have been beamed from heaven, and Brian and I could have been angels, basking in it. But it wasn’t, and we weren’t.

The girl was holding out her hand, bit I could only give a pathetic shrug.I had nothing to give her. I'd finally faded away.

The girl was holding out her hand, but I could only give a pathetic shrug. I had nothing to give her. I'd finally faded away.