I stared at the severed pieces, my nostrils swimming with the odor of the moss, and now the stench of rot. The sour fish in my belly rolled over yet again. I turned, staggered to the drain in the floor, knelt, placed my hands on either side, and vomited directly down it, coughing so mightily my whole body began to ache. “There it is,” said Malo appraisingly. “You seem very practiced! That is the most precise vomit I have ever seen.” I resumed my position over the drain and retched again.
