Ib had vanished from his life. It was then that Garry understood just how much he loved her, how much he needed her... It was then that he knew...how to be dead.

He was a rotting mess, while she a mewling newborn. One 'roten Nacht' they were together.

"Mom, dad… I think I might be gay." I watch as the butter knife slips from my ever-graceful mother's hold and clatters loudly onto the her plate. Next to her, my father scrunches up the newspaper in his hand as he chokes on his morning coffee, black drops staining the brown tablecloth. I hope it will wash out.