I'll Leave It To You, Sassenach," He

The Colors Of Living Things Begin To Fade With The Last Breath, And The Soft, Springy Skin And Supple Muscle Rot Within Weeks. But The Bones Sometimes Remain, Faithful Echoes Of The Shape, To Bear Some Last Faint Witness To The Glory Of What Was.

I'll Leave It To You, Sassenach," He Said Dryly, "to Imagine What It Feels Like To Arrive Unexpectedly In The Midst Of A Brothel, In Possession Of A Verra Large Sausage.

He Splayed A Hand Out Over The Photographs, Trembling Fingers Not Quite Touching The Shiny Surface, And Then He Turned And Leaned Toward Me, Slowly, With The Improbable Grace Of A Tall Tree Falling. He Buried His Face In My Shoulder And Went Very Quietly And Thoroughly To Pieces.

Knowing That Everything Is Possible Suddenly Nothing Is Necessary.

I Stood Still, Vision Blurring, And In That Moment, I Heard My Heart Break. It Was A Small, Clean Sound, Like The Snapping Of A Flower's Stem.