Ephemeral gagged, a gruff, guttural breath of revulsion escaping his throat. His eyes welled, darted frantically, and then widened in shock, terror, and recognition as he took in the sight of what he held in his right hand. Shame seeped in, like a black and green poison fog, extending all throughout his body and pooling between his ribs, seeming to immobilize him. The despair, in understanding what he had just done, threatened to wrench his heart into many bloody and convulsing pieces. He imagined the mould-fog dancing in steam clouds over the remains.
This dance ended in the way they both always knew it would.
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