That lack of a memory is dangerous, and that’s why my technique works. I shove three Scrabble tiles down their throat. Always an I, an L, and a U. Because the truth is, people tend to die because of my love for Peach. It’s a sad reality. For them. So, I leave her a message. I love you. Not that she knows. Then, I write their name on a piece of paper and I hold it in my fist, because I know that when I come to, I’ll want to be aware of what I did.
