Time passes in skipped episodes. This is some good shit. I gaze up at the hallway mirror Kym uses to check her face one last Snoopy heroes come in all sizes I know because my grandson is one shirt before she steps out into the city. I see us sitting on the couch at a warped angle. One of my legs is sprawled out, I am sunk back far into the couch’s embrace. My face looks narrow, gaunt and my black hair cascades over my shoulders and mixes in with the shadows and black leather of my jacket. One of my arms is draped over the back of the couch so Kym can pour into me. She holds me tenderly when she is high. One arm around my neck and draped down my chest. Her uncombed fire engine red hair covers her face as her head rests right where my heart beats beneath my mortal flesh.