I already killed you once, I could easily do it again

Leighton Pierce: Warm Occlusion,

Pierce County's back in the thick of it.

Ach, Tchekov! Why are you dead? Why can’t I talk to you in a big darkish room at late evening—where the light is green from the waving trees outside? I’d like to write a series of Heavens: that would be one.

Oh, I'm starting to cry again. That's what happens when you think about life being fair. And I can't explain why it isn't . . . I don't think it's something anybody knows.

Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn about anyone else